When He Finds Out
by Uncle Stojil
Summary: Because of something happening when they were babies, Harry Potter and Harry Dresden's lives are inevitably linked together. The results become evident only a few years later and they are unexpected, problematic and quite a little entertaining for both.
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

Everything has power. Every single thing in every single world, material and not. The simple existence of something is a power on its own. Of course, not everything has the same kind of power or even the same _amount_. But it's inevitable that 'what is' in some ways influences 'what can be'. It's the natural Order of Things.

Names have power, for example, and so have Days.

It is completely understandable then, that on a particular 31st of October, at night, two concentrations of power of incredible proportions came to interact with each other.

It is even more understandable if we think that in both equations the same Name was being uttered by a loving and dying mother.

Even though held apart by the invisible barriers separating those two different worlds, something was bound to happen.

* * *

Lily Evans Potter

She didn't know what was worse, whether her husband's scream or the dull thud followed by an empty silence. What she knew was that James, her sweet James, was no more. She was certain of that as if she had witnessed it. The creaking sounds coming from the wooden stairs only confirmed it.

The person coming upstairs was not her husband.

Strangely enough, the realization brought anger first and foremost, a rage she had never felt before. She found herself shaking because of it and embracing her son even more tightly. Now she regretted not taking her wand. She had panicked, running upstairs like a frightened chicken, leaving her only weapon on the coffee table in the far away dining room. If only she had taken it...

A dark shape appeared on the doorway and Lily's anger faltered at the sight of Lord Voldemort, his black robe greatly contrasting with his pale features. A pair of bloody red eyes bored into her as a deep, alarming terror started rising from her chest. She forced it down again, though, getting her Harry back in his crib, without taking her eyes off the monster who had just murdered James.

"Get out of my house," she said in a frosty voice, cold anger seeping out of her in big waves that would have put any man to flight. Unfortunately, it wasn't a man the one facing her.

"My, my... is that how you treat your guests?" Lord Voldemort said, hissing the last syllable in a snake-like fashion. He took a step forward and into the room, and Lily stiffened visibly as if ready to strike. Voldemort's wand rested on his right hip, apparently not needed.

"You're no guest," Lily replied, her voice shaking in anger and fright. "You're a trespasser and a murderer. If you don't go away now, I-"

"You what?" Voldemort interrupted her, laughing derisively. "You're weak and disarmed." He produced her willow and unicorn wand and held it mockingly high, twirling it between his pale fingers. "You're alone. Little James, Lord of the ancient House of Potter and your husband, died by my hand in a foolish attempt to oppose me. And, if you don't stand aside, you will join him soon."

The monster took another step forward and she instinctively positioned herself between him and the crib.

"How did you find us?" she asked. 'Make him talk,' she was saying to herself. 'They always love to talk'. But in reality, she actually wanted to know if what she and James had most feared had happened.

"I'm the most powerful wizard of all times. No one can hide from me. No one," he said with a fanatic look in his crimson eyes. He then smiled a cruel smile. "But if you really want to know, it was _rattled_ to me."

Lily stiffened at that, gritting her teeth and trying with all her might not to cry. A lone tear escaped her left eye and ran through her cheek, leaving behind a trail of sadness and pain.

Peter had betrayed them.

"Now, I understand you're angry and maybe sad. But I have a busy schedule tonight," the monster continued in a madman-like voice. "The Longbottoms await me."

She started to shake her head repeatedly, whispering "No, no, no," under her breath over and over again. Tears started running freely down her cheeks now, blurring her vision and burning her eyes. "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" she pleaded falling on her knees.

"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now..." Lord Voldemort threatened, his face slipping into an impatient expression. He lifted his wand and pointed it at her. But she could not stop and she could not stand aside. Her son... her Harry... she would do anything to keep him safe!

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead!" she said, her voice, her body, her very soul shaking awfully.

"You're pathetic," the monster replied, disgusted. "Pleading like the mudblood you are. Stand aside, now!"

He cast a banishing curse at her and she flew through the air, slamming painfully on the wall, back first. The blow took the air away from her lungs, but even like that, numb and gasping for breath, she could not stand aside. She made her way to the crib, crawling as something wet and slick slipped down the right side of her face. She then sat there and lifted her eyes to meet Lord Voldemort's.

"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy... Harry!" she slurred, searching his face for something, anything. A trace of understanding, of pity, of indecision. But all she found was disgust, hate and cold cruelty.

"Foolish, foolish girl..." the monster whispered, shaking his head and raising his wand again. "Avada Kedavra!"

The green light hit her like the ray of an unhealthy sun. She didn't feel anything.

When the mudblood's body slumped down on the wooden pavement, Lord Voldemort regarded it for a long minute. He tilted his head to the side in curiosity as tears continued to appear in her eyes. That was odd, he told himself before losing interest. He shrugged it off and banished the corpse in a corner of the room, clearing the space between him and the crib.

He advanced slowly, already tasting the moment that was about to come. When he finally peered down at the baby he had come to hate – and fear - in the last few months, he found nothing extraordinary, nothing at all. He was just a toddle, so little, so weak. He was awake, his green eyes reminiscent of his now dead mother, looking up at him in a curious way.

Lord Voldemort laughed softly, a scary hiss that made the baby feel uncomfortable judging by his fidgeting and the frown appearing on his rosy face.

And this was the boy destined to vanquish him? The thought seemed so ridiculous now.

Long, pale fingers tightened around a dark wand as it was pointed at one Harry James Potter.

"If you really have the power to vanquish me, this is the right time to use it," Lord Voldemort said, amusement lacing his voice as he thought again about how he had been worried about this whole Prophecy thing. The only answer he received from the baby was a gurgling-squealing noise.

"That's what I thought too," the Dark Lord said. He smiled for a second more before steeling his resolve. "Avada Kedavra!"

It all took a couple of seconds. The green light he was so confident in started from his wand and reached the baby in the crib, striking him on the forehead.

Yet, it didn't dissipate.

It flew back at him instead, without even giving his instincts enough time to kick in. He couldn't move, he couldn't react at all. The green light hit him in the chest and he withered in pain, as a chunk of... of _something_ was torn from him like a yanked cloth. He tried to scream, but he felt like nothing could escape his mouth. He felt like he didn't even have a mouth.

He soon found himself floating in the little room, dizzy and in pain. The only thought in his mind suggested that it was time to flee. Go away, the farthest possible. He noticed the closed window and launched towards it - not even elaborating through his dazed state how its glass surface didn't stop him. He reached the cool air outside and spared a glance towards the place he had just left. The last thing he saw was an eerie, white light coming out of the crib and lighting up the entire room before he finally fled.

* * *

Margaret Gwendolyn LeFay Dresden

I ran as best as I could through the long hallway. My bare feet slapped the pavement of concrete with enough force to hurt. I was already past my physical limits and didn't know how longer I could have stood. Still, there was no way I was gonna stop. Not even all the pain I felt at the moment could make me.

I grasped my lower abdomen where my son seemed intentioned to stay no longer. Two hours had already passed since the waters had broken, and my body was burning as if on fire.

I reached the door and fumbled with my keys to open it. The threshold. I had to cross it. The curse wouldn't be as strong if it had to pass it. It would buy me a little time.

My trembling hands somehow managed to open the door of my apartment and I stumbled inside where my legs stopped answering me and dropped me to the ground. I twisted painfully in order to land on my left side and with a superhuman effort I rolled on my back, gasping loudly for breath.

I tear my hospital clothes open and started pushing with all my might, resting my head on the cold pavement. There was too little time.

"Come on… son," I groaned through gritted teeth. "You have to… come out… right… NOW!"

With a shout, I felt the uncomfortable sensation of something stretching unnaturally in me. It hurt like hell but I couldn't help but laugh gleefully.

The head was out.

Two minutes later - the longest two minutes of my life - I was holding a howling baby in my arms.

My baby.

I watched him through my blurred vision and for a moment, I couldn't even breathe seeing how beautiful he was. Some of my tears dropped on his head and he started crying even harder. I embraced him tightly and lulled him as much for his benefit as for mine.

"My baby… my baby…" I whispered in his ear with a broken voice.

For a moment, a wave of rage surged through me to the point of making me dizzy. I wanted to stay with him, with my Harry, my little Dresden. I wanted to give him everything he needed, everything he wanted.

But that was a foolish feeling and I forced myself to stay focused and start moving already. There was too little time, and I was so tired. I had to act immediately. The curse could reach me anytime now.

I brought a hand between my aching legs and soaked it in my son's blood and my own. Then I started drawing a circle around us. I groaned and hissed as I completed one half, the pain threatening to overwhelm me, but it was not finished yet. _I was_ not finished yet.

The effort was almost too much to bear, but I managed to stay conscious and put Harry gently in front of me, gathering the focus needed for what I was about to do. The still squealing baby watched me with beautiful dark eyes - so much like my man's - stretching his hands to reach mine, to be held again. My heart ached at that, and a last dart of pain and desire pierced through me like a spear, before I regained the necessary concentration again and willed the circle close.

"There's no time," I repeated to myself. It was only a matter of minutes before the entropy curse I had dodged once already would reach me and finally put an end to my life. It wouldn't touch my Harry, I was pretty sure of that. Raith only ordered his lady-sorceress to kill me, and the bastard didn't know of my son. I hid myself from him exactly because of that.

"I will... enjoy seeing your... downfall by Harry's hand... bastard," I stammered aloud, though I was not sure from where I would see it. Would it be from Hell? Probably, but I didn't really care. My only wish couldn't be granted.

I would not live by Malcolm and Harry's side.

I could feel it already. Death was coming, a huge dark shadow descending upon me. If I had activated the Sight, I could have probably seen It in all Its ineluctability. Just laying my gaze upon It would have ripped me apart. I was scared shitless already, anyway.

I was too weak to fight, all with my gestation and my reckless escape from the hospital. No, Death was unavoidable for me.

But there was still a little time. I had to give my second and last birthday present to my son, on top of the silver pentacle.

I started chanting the ancient spell, focusing all my pain, all my longing and all my love for the boy crying in front of me. Half-meaningless words left my mouth as I poured all those feelings together, shaping them in order to be useful instead of just intoxicating. I stated clearly, with every word and gesture what was my intent with that dangerous spell.

_My powers to my son._

Something heavy slammed against the apartment's door, and I managed not to jerk my head towards it only thanks to years of painful and excruciating practice in meditation and focus. I finally ended the chant and felt a sigh escape my trembling lips.

A pressure as none I had ever experienced tried to overwhelm me at that point. It was like all the air around me had started pushing every inch of my body from all possible directions.

Another explosion-like sound came from my right, from where I knew Death was coming, but by that point I couldn't have turned towards it even if I had wanted to.

_I've almost finished, dammit! Please God, help me! I need a little more time!_

I managed to glance at the now partly open door, and I saw a heinous, dark shape through the cracks in the wall. I recognized it at once and after a moment of complete shock, could only smile grimly. Raith's entropy curse had worked in a curious way. It had made _him_ find me after so many years of futile chase.

All the better… I knew him for what he was, and though an assassin of the worst sort, he was a professional even when things were more personal than business.

He was after me. I knew he wouldn't touch Harry.

But interrupting the spell would probably be equivalent to slit my baby's throat and I couldn't allow that. I hastily recovered my focus and threw all I had into the link I shared with my own son, the strongest two people could ever have.

I took the umbilical cord connecting me and Harry together and raised it in front of us, as if it could be the anthem keeping pain or even Death away. I let out a thunderous scream as all the power that had burdened me all my life finally left my being and reached my son's.

I raised my eyes in jubilant triumph only to see a knife flying at me. It sliced through my basic magic circle like any other physical object would have, making it collapse like a house of cards under a gust of wind and freeing the pent up power it had kept in until that moment. Then it struck me with the force of a bullet, digging deep in my chest and sending me sprawling backwards and gasping in pain and shock.

Blood came up my throat, gurgling out of my mouth in hot, scarlet rivulets right as power like I had never felt before, let alone wielded, started raging through the little room, roaring, screaming and searching for an outlet. I only had time to think that I _needed_ to get it under control again before I realized it was far, far too late.

I was dying.

I wanted to crawl over Harry, to cover him, to try and protect him, but my body had stopped answering my orders. I could only watch helplessly as the unrestrained energy swayed wildly once more before rushing down towards my son, hitting him with a prolonged, loud swish. It engulfed him completely a beat later, shining with a white light so intense, I had to close my eyes against my will. The room fell into an eerie, almost expectant silence for what seemed like hours to me, but were just instants, and then I realized something through the burning in my chest and the tingling in my limbs, something I would have preferred not to in my final moments, as the last day of my life was about to end.

My son had stopped crying.

"Harry!"

My last word, a desperate, bloody shout ringing in my own ears was followed only by a painful cough and then nothing.

* * *

Author's notes – Some of you might be thinking: 'why the hell is my favourite uncle starting yet another story? Why isn't he updating his other ones?' The answer would be: 'because my mind is very undisciplined. It isn't able/willing to focus on only one project at a time for more than a few weeks. It tires pretty quickly instead, and starts wandering on its own volition towards different ideas. And if I try to force it back to where it should be, it spitefully produces crap and only crap. Nowadays, I know it's better to simply humour it.'

So, another crossover then, a quite literal one between Harry Potter and Harry Dresden, from the Dresden Files by Jim Butcher. You'll find out exactly what I mean in the next chapter. In this story, there will be spoilers from mostly the first five Harry Potter books and from all twelve of The Dresden Files. The fic collected dust in my computer for a while until I took it up a few days ago and tweaked it a bit. As you could see from this prologue, I'll use third person for the scenes in Potter's world and first person for those in Dresden's.

As always, the general plot is already laid out in my mind, with concepts, ideas and a few scenes even on 'paper'. The first chapter is actually already complete, only in need of a revision. I'll post it in a few days, I think. After that… I don't really know what will happen. There are a few new projects that seem averse to leaving me alone. Some of them will probably attract my attention in the near future while others may not. Anyway, expect something from me soon.

Feel free to point out my mistakes and your impressions in the meantime,

Uncle Stojil


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

It hadn't been a very good day for Harry James Potter. A particularly gruesome detention with Umbridge and her blood quill and another useless Occlumency lesson with Snape were to be blamed for that, but of course, those strange dreams about the door at the end of the corridor hadn't helped in the slightest either. They had become much more frequent in the latest weeks, enough that his initial curiosity had long since been replaced by an almost maddening frustration.

His throbbing headache, stinging forearm and sleepy mind were a constant reminder of how much he needed to be left alone and in peace.

But peace was as far from Harry as it had ever been, because the most annoying, irritating and obsessive boy in the whole world was walking next to him, as he made his way through the hallways of Hogwarts, headed to the Gryffindor Tower.

"And then they say you sliced it as if it were a little grass snake," Colin Creevey was saying slightly breathlessly, trying to match Harry's fast pace in order to stay as close to him as physically possible. "The Basilisk's head fell to the ground and you stood on top of it, the Gryffindor's sword by your side and the Headmaster's Phoenix on your shoulder. You looked at the monster for a moment and then wiped the blood off the blade on its scaly skin!" the boy continued very enthusiastically and dramatically. "On its skin! Wow! I _so_ wish I was there! The portraits didn't want to tell me anything else, but they were snickering at the time so I don't know if they were completely serious… were they, Harry?"

The boy-who-lived continued to ignore the fanatic boy like he had done for the last ten minutes. He had made the mistake of nodding once at the beginning of this torture, but that had seemed to rile up Colin as if he had tossed oil on fire, so now he feared that even rolling his eyes would have unpleasant effects. What did the fourth year want anyway? An autograph? Another photo? The bloody head of the Basilisk? Maybe if its eyes were still working their magic, he could think about actually showing it to the rabid fanboy…

Stumbling through the dark hallways of Hogwarts, he finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He had never longed to see her so much in his whole life. He was a wreck inside and outside. His hair was messier than ever, and the last time he had checked his face today, it resembled that of a sick eighty-year-old man instead of that of a young and relatively healthy fifteen-year-old boy.

Colin stopped his monologue long enough to jovially shout the secret password and let them enter the Common Room, before resuming again, not really disheartened by Harry's silence.

The boy-who-lived glanced around the room, smiled at his former Quidditch team assembled around a table and then made his way to the fireplace, Colin in tow.

His two best friends were apparently studying, Hermione happily buried under a pile of books, while Ron seemed uncomfortable with his only one. They looked up at the sound of Colin's voice and with just a meaningful look on Harry's part, they immediately took their cue.

"Sit down here, Colin. We'll talk to you," Hermione said.

"But-but-" the fourth-year tried to object, but was dragged down to the couch by Ron's long arms.

"I was there too, against the Basilisk I mean," the Weasley added with a goofy grin. "If I hadn't accompanied him, Harry wouldn't have come out of there alive." He paused for a moment. "Or with a working brain, anyway."

"Who says my brain is working right now? Sometimes I think getting obliviated by Lockhart wouldn't have been so bad," Harry groaned, only half-joking. "I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Harry."

"Night, mate."

When he reached the top of the stairs, the boy-who-lived turned around and mouthed a grateful "Thank you" to Hermione who just smiled at him before stepping into the conversation to correct Ron, likely for saying something over the top.

Harry smiled to himself. They were good friends.

The boy-who-lived sighed tiredly as he opened the door that led to his dorm. Dismissing his uniform and kicking it away in a corner - too tired to put it neatly in his trunk or night table - he wore his Gryffindor red pyjamas and slipped inside the comfortable bed, closing his eyes with a contended sigh.

He really hoped that damn door stayed where it should and away from his dreams for the night. He was tired enough already and just wanted to truly rest until morning. He punched his pillow lightly until it felt right and then curled his legs near his body in his favourite position.

He fell asleep in no time.

* * *

I dreamt of total darkness for what seemed like hours. I drifted through it like a bodiless spirit carried around by invisible currents, completely powerless in the face of those wandering forces. Strangely enough, there was no dreaming of amenity or fears, of things I would forget the second I woke. There was no naked Cho Chang either… or nightmarish Umbridge, thankfully. My mind wandered purposelessly and without worries, something that hadn't happened very often in the last period of my life, especially after the snake's attack on Mr. Weasley some weeks before. I was totally aware of that fact, though, and of the blackness surrounding me and almost soothing me with its stillness.

It was good to rest properly again. Of course I should have expected it wouldn't have lasted long.

I soon found myself forcefully dragged down a funnel of darkness, a small light at its end. Something was pushing and pulling me towards a very precise direction. I recognized it soon enough. That blasted corridor, again. I could already outline its walls, its ceiling, and at the end of it, the door.

I gritted my teeth in anger. I was tired of that useless dream!

My floating dream-self squeezed his eyes shut and willed to get out, to dream of something else, to wake up even. Better do something useful while awake than something not only useless but also tiring while sleeping.

I started fighting the alien force that was trying to drag me to the door, struggling against it, snarling and trashing around in such a wild way I surprised even myself. I took strength from the frustration I had built up with all those nights of non-peaceful sleep, from the tension of the last stressful year, of all my life. I fought like there was no tomorrow and I really felt like it was actually true.

And then something started stirring, and a strange warmness slowly wrapped around me like a heavy blanket. My scar started burning atrociously, but it was a different kind of pain than when Voldemort was near. It hurt all the same, but it felt… it felt like it was because of me this time and not because of him. I heard a scream of rage and pain, unmistakably Voldemort's, and I grinned despite the surprise and the pain, because it was about time I scored another point against that bastard, even if it was just in a dream.

I squeezed my eyes closed and kept on fighting, and soon, I realized I was _winning_.

Although my efforts were the same, my struggling had somehow doubled in strength and intensity, and that alien force acting against me was slowly crumbling under my massive attack. With my heart pounding in my chest and my breathing hard and laboured, I kept on pulling and pushing and trashing, just because I knew it was the right thing to do.

Then through the effort and the pain, I felt something break. A terrifying, prolonged screech erupted in my head right as… _something_ was torn, severed from me. I saw it even through my closed eyes, a dark, vicious ball of filamentous smoke that withered and shrunk till it disappeared completely.

And I felt like myself again, though I had no idea I had not been myself till that moment. It was like that time Parvati gave me that Indian massage of hers and when she finished, I no longer felt that couple of aches I didn't even know I had. It was unsettling in a good way, especially because there was no more burning sensation, or pain, neither in my forehead nor anywhere. I felt clean, and happy, and whole.

I felt great.

But I had no time to elaborate the thought any more than that, because that inhuman scream finally stopped, leaving me basking in the sounds of cars' engines, claxons and running water. The change was so sudden my eyes snapped open and I looked around, still somewhat expecting a long windowless corridor and a door at its end. I was pleasantly surprised at first, for there was none of that.

A brief moment of general contemplation followed, in which I realized I was under some kind of bridge, either at night or late evening, while facing what looked like a river in some kind of town, with cars and people passing above and behind me. Then my attention was inevitably directed towards the creature standing on top of the water right in front of me.

She had the semblance of a woman, the most beautiful one I had ever seen, but she most definitely wasn't. She seemed to rise from the river itself like a mythical siren, only completely human, with hip-long red hair flowing down her pale skin and luscious body. She was very tall, leaning forward in a manner reminding a much deadly predator, and she was smiling a very dangerous smile I was sure any man could have fallen prey of. She was practically naked, the silver gown she was wearing all but see-through in the most strategic places, and visibly aroused, the tips of her perky breasts clearly showing through the silken fabric of her dress. Her golden, vertical-slitted pupils were alight with physical pleasure and hungry lust as they looked down at me.

I couldn't speak, couldn't think straight. That creature was simply something out of a dream, although not necessarily a good one, and I found myself wondering what this one would be in that small part of my brain not completely overloaded with shock.

"There you have it, child," she said in a husky tone that sent chills down my body. "It's done. I fulfilled my part of the bargain. I've given you the power you need to defeat DuMorne and his little demon, after which you will be mine."

There was something in her voice that made me sure that wasn't a good thing, as much as it sounded, but I still was unable to talk or even peel my eyes off her. Her right hand went slowly to her stomach and started seductively slipping downwards.

"I will enjoy that moment, my sweet Harry," she continued, arching her back. "And the centuries afterwards."

She had barely said those words when a thundering roar resonated to my right, making both of us turn in that direction. The woman let out a half-surprised and half-menacing hiss while I could only gasp aloud, once again shocked to the bone.

There, at not more than twenty feet from us, stood the most horrible creature that could probably exist.

It was... 'foul' maybe was the best term. It had an anthropomorphic shape, erect on just two feet, but it was at least nine feet tall, even with slightly hunched shoulders. It had a brown hard-looking skin and strong defined muscles on its arms and legs that ended with paws as big as my head. Dozens of gems of different colours littered its body like large spikes of stone, glittering against the light of the streetlamps above the bridge with different shades of blue, red and green. A talon as long and sharp as a crooked short-sword, started from the end of each limb to reach out over the still impressive claws in a fashion reminding me of some of Dudley's old dinosaur toys I had stumbled upon when I got his second bedroom.

Its face was where the similarities with a human being were nowhere to be seen. Pointed, rotten teeth grinned down at me from a wide wolf-like muzzle, and the creature snapped its jaws open and close once as I looked, showing an abnormally lengthy tongue and another set of teeth behind the first one. Its yellow eyes shined as much as the lights of the cars passing by behind it, but they looked pretty small beside the huge dark gem set right in the middle of its forehead. Strangely enough, the creature had no ears that I could see, and two very small nostrils hissing out steam into the cold night air.

I stared open-mouthed for a long second and couldn't help but shudder slightly under its dangerous gaze.

That was when the _presence_ made itself known to me for the first time.

It was a strange experience, one I had never felt before. It vaguely reminded me of Snape's legilimency attacks but much less obtrusive and not painful at all. _Someone_ slowly surfaced in my brain, almost like a twig emerging from underwater and floating there. It felt as if that _someone_ had always been inside my head and had hesitantly decided to come out and play.

I scratched that thought immediately. The _presence_ wasn't out to play at all.

Fear crept up to me in a steadily increasing wave that left me sweating and trembling after a brief moment. I inevitably took a step backwards and almost dropped down as my knees threatened to give out. I managed to keep my balance, only stumbling slightly, but the fear kept on rising inside me.

It wasn't my own. It wasn't mine that devastating terror that had started gripping my stomach and weakening my legs, that sickening dread that was bringing whimpers to my mouth.

It was the _presence's_.

"Bloody hell," I all but whispered, and as I said those words, I realized for the first time that there was something strange about me and about my voice.

I couldn't linger to the thought, though, for the ugly beast up the hill let out another wild roar before launching towards us on all fours, faster than any thing that size should ever be. In no more than two seconds it was right upon me, his left foretalon extended to rip my head off.

It got two inches away before it was stopped.

A bluish torrent of light suddenly shot past me, roaring in my ears and burning my skin. Pain almost like brief electrical shocks registered in my brain, and I realized my eyebrows had been singed by the passing energy. As I recoiled away from that dangerous pillar of light, I saw it hit the creature squarely in the chest, neatly lifting its huge body off its feet. After I had rolled on the dirt beside the river, I looked up only to see its hideous form sprawled fifty feet away, grunting and hissing quietly in the distance.

I stared for a few seconds before turning to where the attack had come from. The beautiful woman was still standing on the water, a slender hand raised forward, its fingers curled almost in a claw. Light was gathered around the tips, glimmering and flickering like a flame and setting a blue shade in the eyes of its owner. The woman's expression had turned murderous as she positively snarled at the downed beast, her perfect face now scrunched up into a terrifying mask.

"That crazy fool!" she hissed angrily a second later, glancing at me. "What was he thinking, summoning He Who Walks Behind to this plane and letting him roam free? To get to you?" She hesitated a long second before slowly lowering her hand, the mysterious light disappearing from her fingers. "Run, child. You have to run now. You didn't told me just what kind of demon your guardian had summoned. The magic in your hands isn't nearly strong enough to scratch any Outsider, let alone the most potent of the Walker demons."

I gulped loudly and for the first time since this bizarre dream had started, I actually tried to talk, struggling against my dry mouth and the still terrified presence in my head.

"What- what the hell is that?" I asked, glancing at the creature that was finally standing up. He Who Walks Behind she had said…

The woman looked at me strangely as I said those words, tilting her head to the side with an almost bewildered expression.

"What's with the accent?" she questioned unexpectedly, before shaking her head a second later. She looked up at the beast as well. "No time for that. I can only slow him down as I am now, after the power I granted you as according to our bargain. You have to get as far away from here as possible."

I shook my head as if to clear it of the cobwebs littering it, but my body had apparently decided to simply bypass the brain. I turned around and ran, not once looking back at the surreal scene I had left behind. An angry roar resonated again from the demonic being but I ignored it completely as I moved away from the bridge.

I ran until my lungs burnt and my legs ached. It's incredible what adrenaline does sometimes. I ran at full speed for something like ten minutes and didn't feel any tiredness at first. I was even forced to go up hill and to the side of a road at one point, but I didn't slow down at all. I was passing by people, sprinting on the concrete sidewalk and letting wind batter at my face and just couldn't stop. I realized I wasn't in a place I knew as I did, but I didn't let my attention linger on what I was seeing any more than what was necessary.

Honestly, I was too busy freaking out.

'_This isn't right,_' was the thought looping in my head as I fled from everything and anything. But that's the thing – you can't really escape your own body, and that was what was causing me so much trouble at the moment. Eventually, I couldn't help but notice all the odd things about my wild run. Stride way too long, feet way too big, arms way too jerky. A rucksack was hitting my back at every step and something that felt like a book's corner was jabbing me annoyingly on the left hip. Almost as a test, I tried speaking even through the panting. Only a small moan came out but it was enough to ascertain that the voice wasn't mine either.

I stopped after that, the momentum of my run forcing me to walk another fifty feet. I was on a very crowded sidewalk now, with big, pricey-looking shops on both sides of the street and cars honking madly in the traffic. Couples cooed as they passed me by, giggling in each other's ears and holding hands, while larger groups checked the display windows and chatted away at a slower pace. I looked at them feeling a bit lost and more than a little rattled by what was happening. Some were staring right back, my dirty and sweaty appearance attracting their attention, not to mention my singed eyebrows.

Glancing sideways at the shop on my right, I caught a glimpse of my reflection on its perfectly shiny glass-door as someone opened it. When it closed a split of a second later and the image disappeared, I walked up to the display window and stared at myself.

A black-haired stranger looked back at me with a mystified expression on his angular face. He was lean and tall, like 6-5 or something, with currently wide, black eyes and sharp features. He looked more or less fifteen, maybe older, and was wearing a plain blue T-shirt under a jeans jacket and some jeans pants that had clearly seen better days. There was no scar on his forehead, of course, but he looked ridiculous without eyebrows, anyway.

"Hell's bells," I whispered under my breath, and immediately wondered where that expression had come from.

This wasn't my body. This wasn't me. Was it a dream? Another vision like the one about Mr. Weasley? At least I wasn't a snake in this one but it was shocking nenetheless. It was also inherently different for in that case, I _had been_ the snake thoroughly, for the whole duration of the vision or whatever that had been. This time around instead, I was still myself, only inside someone else's body.

What was happening? I clearly remembered going to bed in the safety of the Gryffindor tower. Where was I now?

"Do you need anything?"

I struggled to stop looking at my reflection and to turn to the voice. A salesgirl was staring at me from the doorway of the shop, with a half-sceptic and half-questioning expression on her cute face. I shifted my eyes back and forth from her to the display window and eventually noticed it sported women's shoes.

That led to another discovery as my eyes lingered on the strange prices of each piece. They then started roaming restlessly, soon settling on a nearby gift shop and following the letters on some pretty big tablecloths hanging out in a little stand.

"What the-"

I walked up to the shop and peered down at the countless souvenirs displayed outside. Alongside cowboys' hats and sombreros, snow-domes with an old building in miniature inside and postcards of different locations, a single theme dominated the whole stall.

San Antonio, Texas.

Basketball jerseys of some guy named Robinson read San Antonio on the front, and so did pictures and drawings of some fort called Alamo. Everywhere in the stall the American city was acclaimed and praised.

I tried to look around, but my head started spinning dangerously and I found myself stumbling forward. A young man nearby took my arm and steadied me.

"You alright, man?" he said in a heavily American accent. "Why doncha sit down for a moment, huh?"

I looked at him as if he was crazy, before turning around wildly, trying to pay more attention to the pieces of conversations I could hear from where I was. What I recognized as Southern American English resonated all around me, with the occasional foreign language of some tourists. I freed myself from the man's grip and took a step back.

"Sorry," I said dazedly, still pretty much out of it. I started walking away under his concerned gaze.

I walked for a few minutes, trying to get my head around the situation and failing. My breathing had calmed down to normal, but my legs now ached horribly and I decided that the man's advice of sitting had its merits. After turning a corner, I continued down a road that housed less shops and more taller buildings, and I eventually plopped down on the stone steps of a staircase leading up to the entrance to one of them.

Once settled there, I started to gather my thoughts.

I was… not in Scotland? Not even in Britain? That was… logical, now that I thought about it. I was only wearing a light jacket and it was really hot. Even considering my wild run, I would have been freezing if I were anywhere near Scotland. The weather was way too good, way too warm for Britain in general, not this time of the year anyway.

I tried to breathe in and out calmly. Okay, I had been taken off guard a little and the discovery had been unexpected, but there was no reason to panic, really… not because of that, at least. I put the matter aside for the moment and started focusing on more pressing issues, instead. I pulled out my jacked and folded it neatly on my lap, marvelling slightly at the unmarked forearm I had uncovered.

The presence I had felt after the appearance of the demon by the river had long since gone back to the depths of my mind, but now I realized it was probably the real owner of this body I had somehow possessed. It made sense, sort of, more than the 'it's just a dream' excuse, which had unfortunately become very improbable by now. It wasn't just a dream for sure, and I felt like it wasn't a normal vision either, if the word 'normal' could be applied to that.

What to do, then? Someone waking my real body up in the Gryffindor tower would probably end this nightmare, but in the meantime? Could I try to contact Dumbledore or Sirius and get them to take me back to where I belonged? Back to Hogwarts? How had I ended up here in Texas, anyway? Was Voldemort to be blamed? He had certainly been involved in the early stages of the 'dream' before I had sort of kicked that dark, filamentous ball out of the way. Could that have been the cause of this odd situation?

Something was nagging at me, though, something about that demonic being who had attacked me by the river and even that beautiful woman who had saved my life. They weren't… they didn't, couldn't belong to my world, I had felt that immediately upon setting my eyes on them. Of course, logically, that 'demon' could have been an exotic magical creature I had never heard of, and that woman one of those powerful sorceresses of the East much rumoured about… but for some reason, my instincts, my magic, my very being didn't think so.

That woman… she had called me by name. She had known me. What else had she said? I shook my head lightly. It was difficult to remember when everything that happened to you was so deeply shocking you couldn't think straight. She had mentioned someone, DuLac or something, and hinted that he had been the one summoning the demon to get to me. She had also claimed to have given me enough power to fight DuLac, but not enough to defeat this He Who Walks Behind.

I nodded. That was it, pretty much the whole conversation. It didn't really help, though.

I watched as people walked by, oblivious to my situation, and couldn't help but sigh grimly. Why did everything happen to me? Why couldn't I lead a normal life, maybe not a muggle one but that of a normal wizard? Why was everything ever so complicated?

I stopped that train of thoughts and berated myself. I needed to stop being so miserable and try to do something about it instead. I decided I had to find out who I had ended up being and started checking my pockets. They were empty but for some change I found by rummaging in the jacket, and I examined it intently for a long second. American cents, I ascertained with slight confusion and disappointment. Normal muggle currency, then… the boy I had possessed maybe wasn't a wizard, which didn't make any sense considering what the woman by the river had said.

I pocketed the small coins and turned to the backpack, unzipping it with a resolute expression. Looking inside, I smiled excitedly in seeing a black wallet and quickly fished it to check it out. I ignored the money and went straight to the cards in the slots. The one I randomly chose was a library subscription and it sported a nice picture of the face that was currently mine, plus eyebrows. Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, it read below.

Well, that explained how that woman had known my first name. She hadn't. She had just thought she had been talking to this Harry Dresden guy. That also explained the comment she had made out of the blue about my accent. The American boy most probably had a far different inflection than the British one I had. I looked at the photo and at the card for a few seconds before putting it back in the wallet to continue my rummaging.

I discarded the thing after checking the other cards and money, and then went back to the rucksack. I pulled out a math book first and an English one then, looking them over quickly before putting them on the stairs' step beside me. Another school tome about science followed and finally the smallest of all of them. Only one sentence, written with golden characters, could be read on its grey cover.

Trasmogrification and Its Secrets.

I stared. That didn't sound muggle at all. Intrigued, I opened it to the first page and scanned it quickly, immediately realizing the book _was_ about magic, after all. It seemed similar to Transfiguration, too, from the initial description and definition, but it wasn't exactly the same. I read ahead for some minutes and found myself engrossed by the odd take on the subject the book proposed. It almost looked like it dealt with a different kind of magic than the one I was used to, and I wondered if that was somehow related to the strange attack the beautiful woman had launched against the demon by the river.

I thought back at it. It had indeed been different from any spell I had ever witnessed or studied, but it had been magic nonetheless. The strange thing was that I had _felt_ it like some kind of buzzing energy, not only when it shot past me in its bluish-torrent form, but also when it was lingering around the pale hand of its owner. That had never happened to me before. Spells didn't feel like anything unless they hit you. You couldn't sense their power from a distance or even when you performed them yourself. So that had been pretty odd.

Thunder suddenly rumbled ahead and I looked up sharply. Heavy clouds were gathered in the distance, lightning dancing inside them like flashy, blue beams.

That storm… had it been there just a few minutes before? And more importantly, was it magical? I could feel it swirling and writhing above me, much like that woman's spell, but much, much more powerful. Thankfully, also much further away. I could feel the energy in the very air surrounding me and it made the hair on the back of my head stand up. It crawled against my skin like a hundred spiders, somehow playing on my senses and almost disorienting me. I even had to put down the book as I started panting. I felt like I was basking in timeless power with the impression that, if I opened my mouth, I could even taste it on my tongue.

It took me a few minutes to regain complete control of myself and I had to try and ignore the storm to do it. I put my jacket back on and tried to stop shivering as my body pulsed in rhythm with the brewing energy up in the sky. When I felt okay again, I forced myself to put away the book and get back to the rucksack.

There was one more thing in it, a white plastic bag with in the middle a red logo of some kind of American mini-market. Inside there were some pieces of chalk, what looked like a plasticine bar, a mirror, a notebook and the biggest wand I had ever seen.

It actually took me a second to realize it _was_ a wand to begin with. It was big, as in both long and thick, and strange runes and sigils were carved on its wooden surface in a meaningless – at least to me – array of symbols. I picked it up carefully and turned it around to better examine it. Yep, the carvings didn't make any sense alright, but the thing couldn't be anything but a wand. Whether a working one or just a toy, I didn't know yet.

I looked around at all the passersby and frowned. I couldn't certainly use it in front of all these people, so I quickly gathered all my things and started walking away. A few minutes passed before I could find a desert alley, which suited me just fine. Of course, it wasn't the best of place to stay when a dangerous demon was after you, but I needed some secrecy. Finally alone and half hidden behind a big dumpster, I pulled the wand out of the bag and raised it.

I had given it some thought as I moved somewhere private, and now I knew what my first try at using magic would be. Feeling a little nervous but at the same time resolute, I tried to call the Knight Bus.

Nothing happened.

A few minutes passed before I gave up. Either because the wand didn't work or because I wasn't in Britain, the Knight Bus wouldn't arrive I told myself. Then I shrugged and moved on to a 'real' spell.

"Wingardium Leviosa," I chanted quietly, flicking the wand in the direction of a leaflet on the ground. Immediately, the runes on the wood lit up with a yellow hue and a hissing sound seemed to come out of them. As the colourful sheet of paper started floating in the air, a small wisp of smoke slowly lifted from the tip of the wand, which began trembling and warming slightly under my touch. I had the impression it was slightly more difficult than normal to control the simple spell, but that could have depended on the unexpected reaction of the wooden object which had surprised me quite a bit.

I cut the spell out after a brief second, happy that it had worked out fine but a little worried by the wand's strange response. That hadn't been right. It had almost looked like the object hadn't been made for it, but it had performed the spell correctly nonetheless. It wouldn't have if it had been just a toy or a twig.

The light on its surface disappeared in a matter of seconds and the wood went back to its original coolness as well. I put it away in my pocket, content to know magic was at my disposal, should I ever need to defend myself. I really hoped it wouldn't come down to that, though.

I looked around and went to sit on the fire escape of the building on my left, but changed my mind immediately, as I noticed all the pigeon droppings littering its steps. I grimaced at them and walked up to a large wooden crate at the back of the alley. After making sure the door beside it was locked, I turned the crate upside down, sat on it and tried to make myself comfortable. Picking up the plastic bag again, I fished out the notebook and opened it. What I guessed was Harry Dresden's handwriting greeted me from its white pages and I started reading it with a certain degree of interest.

As I expected, the notebook was about magic, Trasmogrification to be exact. It was in form of diary, in whose entries the wizard had written down his progresses with the practical exercises and some ideas about the subject. I pulled the mirror out of the plastic bag and finally realized why it was in there. Dresden used it to check out his face when he tried to change his appearance with a spell. At least now that made sense. I was still at a loss about what chalk and plasticine were needed for, though.

I was still examining the small mirror when the attack came, which was probably what saved my life. I was looking at its clear surface as it was pointed upwards when it showed me the reflection of a dark figure falling down upon me. I reacted on instincts and rolled sideways and to my left, just in time to avoid being crushed by the newcomer. A strangled cry escaped my lips as I quickly stoop up, wand once again in hand.

The wooden crate I had been sitting on was now only a bunch of splinters as the newcomer stood on top of its remainders, the colourful gems littering his body glittering under the light of the streetlamps. He turned his head in my direction very slowly, deliberately so, and fixed me with a piecing stare that had me shivering badly. His nostrils flared and he hissed menacingly, as his steamy breath went out in the night air.

I swallowed.

He Who Walks Behind had found me.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Much like last time He Who Walks Behind had appeared, fear slithered past my feeble defences, as Harry Dresden's presence re-emerged in my brain as intensely as before. Now, though, it also came with a strong sense of defiance, a sort of boldness that took me completely by surprise and positively gained control of my body for a moment. I found myself raising the wand in the demon's direction while my lips opened up to let out a single word.

"Fuego!"

'_Isn't that Spanish?_' was the thought passing through the shock and the fear in my head, and I almost let go of my weapon when a huge pillar of fire escaped its tip with a thunderous roar. It was so hot I thought I would burn myself but I managed to keep my arm steady as the attack found its target.

The demon growled lowly, turning his body to fully face the spell. There was a long moment after the attack hit when time seemed to literally freeze to a stop. Then the torrent of fire spread throughout the broad chest of the creature with sizzling, almost coughing sounds, its advance interrupted. The demon didn't budge at all, and as the wand stopped conjuring flames, the attack died away in a matter of seconds. He Who Walks Behind's chest was completely unmarked.

I was shocked once again. The attack had been greater in size than the woman's by the river, and yet the former had accomplished nothing whereas the latter had floored the beast for a few seconds. I thought back at something the sorceress had said, something about my magic not being able to hurt the demon at all, and wondered if I really couldn't do anything. I also wondered if that spell, unknown to me, was the kind of magic Dresden could wield. Despite the situation, a part of me couldn't help but feel somewhat envious of the American wizard. There were some fire spells I knew, but they weren't nearly as strong as '_Fuego_' was.

I was breathing hard now, more because of nervousness than exertion, though, and I was feeling excited and… powerful, despite the feeble results of the attack. I felt the remnant of the spell I had just used flowing restlessly in the pit of my stomach and through my body, rumbling with impatience, eager to get out again. It was a strange sensation, but warm and familiar. This energy, this _magic_, was mine, just as much as the one I had always used at Hogwarts, if not more so. It wanted what I wanted and felt what I felt. It was powerful.

And it was dangerous.

I hesitated inside and it wavered and withdrew as well, as if sensing my sudden faltering, and the elation I had felt for using it disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving place to a soberer sensation of caution. Still, I raised my wand at the ready and trained it on the demon in front of me.

On his part, the dark creature had stayed still where he had landed, looking at me… curiously? Yeah, that seemed like it. He had tilted his head to the side and squeezed his yellow eyes almost quizzically.

"Thou have a strange smell," he declared in a deep rumble, and I couldn't help but jump slightly at the sound of his voice.

I expected a lot of things from He Who Walks Behind, but talking wasn't one of them. I had first seen it roaring and running on all fours to attack, and honestly, that had struck me as something very animalistic and not at all civil. Instead, the creature was apparently able to speak English, although a seemingly archaic one at that. The discovery lessened part of my fear and helped me find the courage to actually answer him. I could even talk him out of killing me, I reasoned.

"Maybe it's the dumpster, here," I said hesitantly, gesturing at the big thing with my wand-less hand.

"No," he replied immediately, his long tongue darting out of his mouth to taste the air. "'Tis coming from thee."

"Alright, sorry," I apologized quietly noticing his rotten, pointy teeth in the meantime. "Is that how you found me? You followed my smell?"

"I have many such ways to find thee." His muzzle stretched to form a grin. "And I _have_ found thee."

Silence descended on the desert alley for a brief second.

"What happened to the woman by the river?" I asked curiously.

"Lady Winter? She yede back to her realm whenas her powers gave," he said dismissingly. "She can't help thee. But do not despair. I am not here to kill thee."

"You aren't?" I blurted out in scepticism. "I find it hard to believe considering your attack under the bridge. If '_Lady Winter_' hadn't stepped in, I wouldn't have a head on my shoulders right now."

"'Tis not so," the demon disagreed. "I had planned to seize hold of thee, not actually hurt thee."

I stared at him for a long moment then decided he was probably telling the truth. What was the use of lying anyway? He couldn't really expect me to just lower my head and follow him, right?

"What do you want then?" I eventually asked.

"To bring thee to the wizard I made a bargain with," the demon explained, looking at the storm in the distance. "Time is limited, howbeit. We need to hurry."

He took a step forward and the wood creaked underneath his weight as he reached for me.

"Whoa!" I slipped away from his extended arm and raised my wand once again. "I'm not going anywhere!"

"Resistance is futile," he said calmly, gesturing at his own chest. "Thy magic can't hurt me, thou have seen that."

"That wasn't _my_ magic!" I replied hotly, quenching my fear with anger. "Stay away from me or you'll regret it!"

"Foolish mortal!" the demon hissed, suddenly putting his impressive fangs on display. "Show some respect to He Who Walks Behind, to the most potent of the Walkers! Thou shalt come with me, and that is final!"

As the creature once again moved to grab me, I flicked the wand in his direction and watched it light up of a blue hue.

"Reducto!"

My whole arm trembled as the power of my spell made the wooden stick shake wildly. As a result, the following blue beam only hit the demon on the left shoulder, instead than on the chest I had aimed at. That said, the attack was a success nonetheless.

As soon as the spell connected, a loud explosion reverberated around the Walker's shoulder, making him grunt in apparent pain and spin around and against the dumpster behind. His heavy, muscular body banged into the large bin, denting it badly and pushing it a few feet away as the demon fell to the ground.

I quickly hid my own shock as He Who Walks Behind turned his face towards me in surprise, the dark gem on his forehead seemingly trapping all the light falling on him. His shoulder was oozing blood now, together with a strange slime of brown colour, while a whole chunk of it was slowly slipping down the dumpster's side.

"Where did thou learn that, wizard?" the demon asked in a bewildered tone as he carefully stood up, talons raking the concrete pavement with annoying grating sounds as he did. "'Twas magic that doesn't belong to thy world!"

I didn't comment on that, instead reiterating my previous threat. "Don't get any closer."

"The smell…" he said quietly, his large body leaning slightly towards me as his nostrils flared. "'Twas that magic I smelt…"

We remained in silence for a few seconds, staring at one another intensely and in complete stillness. Beyond our little alley, cars honked madly and people chattered loudly as life moved on.

"What is thy name?" the demon suddenly asked.

"Harry," I started before hesitating. "Harry Dresden."

He Who Walks Behind breathed in deeply.

"Harry Dresden," he repeated, and the words came out of his mouth with such power behind them I felt like they had been pounded in my head. "I shalt remember thee."

That was when it happened. Something clicked inside me as if the name had switched a hidden button somewhere in my brain. I, quite suddenly, knew things. A whole lifetime's worth of them, to be exact. I knew who Harry Dresden really was, who DuMorne, and not DuLac, was, not to mention 'Lady Winter', in reality Lady Leanandsidhe, the woman who had given me power. An entire, incredible life filled my mind, a huge wave of memories that somehow found its right place in my head without eliciting so much as an urge to blink from me. The life of one Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden flowed behind my eyes as if it had always been there.

And I realized with some distress what had happened, how Dresden's guardian had tried to put a mind-spell on the American wizard, how the latter had managed to run away and had looked to his Faerie Godmother, Lea, for some pricey help. He had virtually given away his freedom in exchange for the power needed to fight and all he really had in mind as he did that was the immovable thought of needing to save his lover, Elaine, threatened herself by DuMorne's plans.

I grimaced. The man's betrayal stung and rattled me deeply, much more than what anything happening to a stranger could have. But that was the point.

Harry Dresden wasn't a stranger anymore. Far from it.

With what I considered rightful anger, I scowled at He Who Walks Behind. The demon had been summoned by DuMorne right in front of Dresden and sent after him when he had escaped. With my new set of memories, I could finally understand just in what kind of trouble I was in. The Walker wasn't just any demon, as Lea had said.

He was an Outsider.

Outsiders were beings of great power who were pretty much immune to wizard magic. They didn't live in the Nevernever, like normal demons did, but in the Netherworld, which was a mysterious and dangerous place beyond the forbidden Outer Gates. Dresden had never seen an Outsider before, but he had extensively studied the subject with DuMorne until he had grown a pretty big awe for the creatures.

And now I was standing in front of one.

Thankfully, I had discovered something else beside what Dresden already knew about them.

My magic – not his – could hurt them.

Lea had called He Who Walks Behind 'the most potent of the Walkers' and hinted that even among Outsiders he was something special, but at least, with my magic, I had a fighting chance. I shuddered in thinking about what would have happened to Dresden if he himself had faced the demon. Now that I had his memories, I knew that 'Fuego' was the most powerful offensive spell he could handle well enough in a fight and, despite coming out as one of the strongest he had ever conjured, it hadn't even scratched the Walker when I had used it earlier. The Reductor curse, on the other hand, had got pretty good results already, even coming out of what I now recognized as a blasting rod, not a wand.

I observed the imposing creature in front of me and couldn't help but gulp nervously. So many ways to kill you, I thought, looking at his long talons and fangs, and at his muscular arms and chest. The injured shoulder had stopped bleeding already, and even though a fairly big chunk of it was literally missing, the Outsider didn't seem to care at all.

I wondered what would happen if he killed me while in this body. Would I die as well? Would my real body back at the Gryffindor tower keep on sleeping forever in a coma? Would Dresden, maybe, pop up to take control of it like I did with his?

I didn't have answers to those questions and, of course, now was not the time to dwell on them. I steadied my wand arm and tried to look resolute.

"Thou art of interest to me," He Who Walks Behind suddenly said, as if sensing I was finally ready for either a physical, magical or verbal confrontation. His expression had turned bemused in the meantime and I studied it for a brief second.

"Does that mean you're letting me go?" I asked hopefully. I would have avoided fighting if possible.

"No," came the crushing but fairly expected reply.

"Can't you just… walk away or something?" I tried again optimistically but he shook his head.

"Bargains are binding to my kind," he explained. "The wizard who called himself DuMorne offered me freedom of walking through thy world for the night and I accepted."

"So…" I resumed eventually, more to fill the stretching silence than to really say something. "Where does that leave us?"

"It _leaves_ _us_," he repeated as if not sure of the words, "at an inevitable struggle and too short a time for it."

I nodded.

"So that's how it is…"

A long second of absolute stillness followed, then we moved together to attack. He Who Walks Behind surged forward like a hungry beast, his huge body springing towards me like a coiled snake, while I only flicked my wrist left and pointed the blasting rod at him.

"Repello!" I shouted quickly, watching as the runes on Dresden's rod immediately began glimmering in the dark alley. A beat later, a yellow beam started from the magical focus and hit the Outsider on the chest a split of a second before he could reach me.

The effect was instantaneous. The banishing spell first stopped the Walker's charge completely and then pushed him away and against the wall behind him with great force. I hesitated but an instant before running to the fire escape nearby and climbing it, using my free hand to grasp the cool railing and pull myself up as quickly as I could. I only spared a glance down at the demon and saw him looking up at me calculatingly with his big yellow eyes while he stood up. I focused on running then, but I didn't hear him following me on the metal steps.

A few seconds later, I reached the first floor and the door leading to the inside of the building, and raised my blasting rod in its direction.

"Alohomora!" I shouted, and as my weapon light up of a greenish hue, I heard a soft click and watched the entrance open up.

I shouldered past it and found myself in a narrow hallway with beige walls and brown, residential doors on both sides. Malfunctioning yellow lamps buzzed down the corridor and I followed them till a larger area that housed the elevator. A large flight of stairs opened up next to it, and I hesitated before running past it. I looked over my shoulders worriedly. I didn't want to use the stairs to get out of the building for it seemed like the predictable thing to do. Instead, I decided to go back to the open fire escape and either climb up or down from there, while keeping an eye out for anything coming my way.

I ran a few more minutes and marvelled at how long it was taking to reach my destination. The residential building was bigger than it looked from outside and I quickly lost count of how many turns and corridors I had already took. My legs were starting to ache again now that the adrenaline had subsided and my anxiousness was growing exponentially as well. There was no sign of He Who Walks Behind but I had no doubt he was coming after me, and the suspense was killing me.

Finally taking a decision, I slowed down to a light jog, tried to calm my breathing and Listened.

Listening was something Dresden had learned to do when he was a kid. It was… it was difficult to explain but it practically consisted in blocking out everything but the sound around you and giving it your whole attention. It didn't feel like a magical ability per se, but it had probably something to do with it nonetheless.

I Listened then, for the first time in my life, and managed to go past my laboured breathing, the soft thuds of my footsteps on the carpet, and the apparent silence all around. Cars' engines registered in my ears first and my brain then, followed by distant voices coming from the nearby apartments, music from either radio or TV and finally a strange screeching sound I couldn't quite place. It was coming right from my left and I tried to extend my wizard senses - another one of Dresden's abilities - beyond the wall and towards it.

It took me a second to suppress my following wave of panic and scramble backwards, right as the wall I was trying to _feel_ simply exploded inwards as He Who Walks Behind slammed through it. Shards of stone and concrete shot towards the opposite wall, a rain of rock bullets that pierced through the air like deadly shrapnel. They missed me by a couple inches and I couldn't help but stare for a moment at the mangled wallpaper they had hit instead. The Walker knocked down what was left of the stonework with his huge paws and then stepped through the opening he had created.

Recovering from my shock as he roared his challenge, I raised my rod and gathered my will.

"Vento!" I shouted as I reached out for the wind coming from outside. "Ventas servitas!"

Dust and rocks were lifted in the air and subsequently thrown at the Outsider by my conjured gale. They flew and smashed against his body and face very fast, more annoyingly than painfully, as the demon raised his arms to shield his eyes. Seeing I was out of debris after a second, I let my attack wind down and flicked my wrist once again.

"Repello!"

The banishing spell came out much feebler this time around as I found myself gasping for breath. Changing 'kind of magic' so quickly proved harder than I thought and even though my attack had pushed He Who Walks Behind a few feet backwards earlier, now it only made him take a step back.

It was enough.

The Walker had already been on the very border of his impromptu opening and when he searched solid ground with his right paw to resist my spell, he only found air. He fell down with a surprised grunt, his left talon raking on the concrete pavement helplessly as he quickly slipped out of the building.

I didn't stay to see what happened next and resumed my run instead, reaching the nearby stairs and climbing up. I kicked myself later for the bad decision, when, before disappearing on the next landing, I saw the Outsider successfully righting himself up with the aid of his long talon. His furious, yellow eyes bore into me with the promise of painful retaliation.

I should have made sure he would have fallen down, I berated myself angrily even as I sped to the upper floor. Again, I couldn't hear the demon racing after me and that continued to unnerve me a lot.

People were coming out of their apartments now, some curious, others frightened by the earlier explosion. I didn't have either time or breath to tell them to go back to their houses but seeing a panicked and sweaty eyebrowless guy running like crazy towards you and holding a stick makes something of a bad impression I imagine, for they practically scrambled back behind their doors as I passed.

A few minutes later, I finally got back to the fire escape leading down to the dark alley. Opening the door and getting outside, I immediately looked around for any sign of the Outsider.

That strange squeaking sound once again warned me of his presence before I could actually see him and I leaned over the metal railing to take a better look.

"Bloody hell!" I wheezed out.

I had thought taking the narrow fire escape would have slowed him down, not that it would have pushed him to do his best Spider-man impersonation.

He Who Walks Behind was simply climbing up the wall of the building, his sharp talons producing those annoying screeches as they clung to the stonework while his muscular arms heaved his huge body up. And he was going fast too, using nimbleness that should have been unachievable for a built like his. He suddenly looked up and at me directly, and his wide muzzle stretched into a dangerous grin of countless, impressive teeth.

I panicked a little and fired at him pretty much the first thing that came to mind. The tickling jinx elicited a cough of sorts from him and the reaction somewhat heartened me a little. My next stunner missed his head by a couple of inches, but the following leg-locker connected and forced his long legs together. The Outsider slipped a few inches, only holding on by his arms' talons now, and grunted in apprehension as he looked down at the ground fifty feet below.

"Damn talons," I panted, and right as I said that, I remembered a nearly forgotten spell I had stumbled upon while preparing for the first task in the Triwizard Tournament. It was called talon-clipping charm and was used by handlers on their dragons for aesthetic purposes. I had learnt it out of desperation at the time, but as I cast it on He Who Walks Behind, I couldn't think of a better situation where using it. The pink beam of light started from my blasting rod and hit the demon on the left shoulder.

The Walker could only watch helplessly and in surprise as his long foretalons simply snapped with a resounding crack as they were cut off by the power of the spell. They stayed plunged into the building while the Outsider fell with a roar, his arms flailing wildly to try and grasp something other than empty air. He failed, for his legs were also still locked together, and he dropped down at great speed.

I would have cheered if I hadn't been so out of breath, but of course, it would have been for nothing.

I watched as He Who Walks Behind hit the concrete below back-first. His loud roar died immediately at that, while his large muzzle stayed open in evident pain. He was conscious, though, and he shook his head repeatedly even as he remained lying there. The fall would have certainly shattered any human spine, but he wasn't a mere human and he slowly started sitting up on the ground. His legs snapped free a second later as the spell wore off and he once again looked up at me, this time with furious yellow eyes.

I stopped just staring disbelievingly at him and resumed my run up the fire escape, those same squeaking sounds accompanying me the whole time. The charm had apparently left long enough talons to continue climbing the wall. I slowed down a few times to fire a few more spells at the demon, but he had clearly wised up about it and managed to dodge them all.

When I eventually reached the roof, he had pretty much caught up to me. I raced through the aerials and the water tanks, anyway, desperately trying to reach the door leading to the inside of the building, and was only a few feet away from it when I saw his dark shape jumping high from my left to land right between me and my destination. I skid to a halt and raised my rod.

"'Tis the end of the run," his deep voice informed me as he straightened up. "It lasted longer than it ought to have been."

I didn't answer to that, starting to walk backwards instead, in order to put a little more distance between us. What I now knew was a magical storm caused by the summoning of He Who Walks Behind still raged in the distance, power swirling and twisting inside its grey clouds. It almost distracted me to the point I didn't realize I had reached the ledge, but I stopped in time to avoid splattering myself to the ground below. My eyes darted longingly to the next building for a moment, its roof clearly too far to be reached with a jump, even considering Dresden's long legs for with such a short run-up-

And then a memory surfaced in my brain. It almost felt like a mental slap, in the sense that it stunned me for a moment and at the same time drew my attention even over the imposing creature in front of me. It was the memory of Harry Dresden and his first real contact with magic.

It was the Olympics day at his school, a few years before now. Justin DuMorne hadn't come into his life just yet, and the American wizard didn't even know he _was_ one. He was very small, all elbows and ears, and there was this running long jump contest he had been entered into. He had wanted to win so bad that some of his magic had rolled out of him to throw him about ten feet further than he should have been able to jump.

It had been pretty much Dresden's version of accidental magic and it had earned him victory and a blue ribbon he still had somewhere.

I looked at the Outsider and then back over my shoulder, my eyes narrowing as I did. My decision must have been somewhat evident on my face for the Walker let out a low growl and immediately dropped on all fours to chase after me.

I paid him no mind as I turned and sped past the few feet separating me from the ledge, taking the leap with my right foot and extending my wand-arm behind.

"Forzare!"

There was only a dim flash of scarlet light unlike what Dresden's memories suggested, for I focused on keeping it to a minimum. Instead, the released energy all went into kinetic force, which flung me up at an angle and pushed me to the next roof.

I landed in a roll, surprising even myself, and got up at once, immediately running towards the door twenty feet from me. If this building was as big as the previous one, the fire escape was really too distant to be an option, and I didn't even waste time in trying to spot it. My only chance was the door leading inside the building.

He Who Walks Behind was already after me, I could hear his talons screech at every step on the concrete ground, and with a quick glance behind, I could see him quickly closing the gap between us. For someone who called himself a Walker, he sure ran fast…

After charming the door open and stepping through, I took a brief moment to cast a Colloportus on it to seal it shut and try to slow the Outsider down. As its hinges squelched loudly, the demon slammed against it with a thunderous roar.

The door held.

I sprinted down the concrete steps while He Who Walks Behind continued to test my spell, now howling in fury. He stopped a few seconds later, judging by the ceased banging on the door, possibly to try another route.

He got to me once I had reached the third floor, a few minutes later. Just like the first time, he slammed inside the hallway I was in through the wall, sending debris flying everywhere. Dust got in my eyes and I desperately scrambled back, even as I raised my rod and blindly fired a Stunner in his general direction. It must have hit its intended target, for I heard a grunt and then a heavy thump practically in front of me. I tried to wipe my eyes as best as I could and squinted them open.

The cloud of powder was only now settling down to reveal the huge hole the Outsider had opened on the wall and he himself laying down next to it. He wasn't out cold, though, much to my disappointment. He was already trying to straighten up, instead, standing on its four legs a bit wobbly. I pointed my rod at him, ready to cast another stunner, but the magic word only stuck in my throat, immediately replaced by an intense coughing fit as dust got in my mouth.

I stumbled backwards, watching through all the blinking as the Walker regained its balance. Next thing I knew, I was slammed against the wall hard, the little air in my lungs quickly rushing out of me with a gasp. I dropped down to the floor with only pain and the need to keep holding my weapon in mind, but He Who Walks Behind was upon me now, still shaking his head in apparent dizziness, though.

Breathing was an effort on its own and speaking up long enough to utter any magic word was out of question, but I _needed_ to take advantage of the demon's dazed state if I wanted to get away. So, even as I wheezed, I trained my rod at him and swished it in the practiced motion of a Stunner. The spell didn't work, even though the weapon briefly light up and a tiny wisp of smoke lifted from its tip. I desperately tried again and this time I at least produced a feeble red beam that drifted towards the Walker before dissipating. Unfortunately, the only thing it managed to accomplish was attracting the Outsider's attention, more or less.

Still visibly out of it, He Who Walks Behind raised his huge left arm and swatted at me as if at an annoying fly. His long talon barely missed my face, while his paw actually hit my blasting rod, throwing it down the hallway. I watched it fly away from me and my heart almost stopped when it started rolling slowly towards the hole in the wall. Debris blocked its path eventually and I let out a shuddering breath at the close call. I didn't want to think about what would have happened if my only weapon had fallen to the street below.

I slipped under the demon as he continued blinking and shaking his head madly, and he grunted in confusion or maybe realization when I finally got my hands back on the blasting rod and scrambled to stand up.

"Wizard," he growled threateningly as he turned to face me once again. He dropped on all fours and pounced on me like a tiger.

"Protego!" I shouted desperately, raising my weapon and hoping for the best. Although shaky, Dresden's voice did come out of my mouth this time around, as a half dome of blue light shimmered to life between me and He Who Walks Behind.

The demon slammed against it as if against an immovable wall, and yellow and blue sparks flew all around as his huge body met my magic. But it was almost like he was expecting it, for he neither fell down nor bounced back. He kept on pushing instead, his forehead and forepaws pressing heavily against the translucent screen as he grunted with the effort.

I fuelled my magic shield with all the power I could master and gritted my teeth as I realized the Outsider intended to keep up the attack until the barrier was down. By the tenth second, my wand-arm was trembling so much I had to use my other hand to keep it steady. Sweat-drops ran down my red face and into my panting mouth, but the shield was holding up all the same. I grinned through the exertion and even felt like riling the demon up.

Unfortunately, I wasn't prepared for what he really had in store for me.

Suddenly spinning around on his right foot, the Walker went around my barrier in a graceful movement worthy of David Robinson, the great basketball player of the San Antonio Spurs whose name I hadn't recognized earlier in seeing his jersey and whose offensive skills I was now reminded of thanks to the new and alien memories in my brain. The Admiral would have ended the spin with a powerful dunk, but He Who Walks Behind was no basketball player.

He shouldered me from the side even as I tried to redirect the shield, his powerful body pressing me and my wand-arm against the wall while his magically clipped and yet still unbelievably sharp talons barely missed my chest. I couldn't point my rod at him nor could I use my flimsy physical strength to overpower his, although I did try the latter out of utter desperation. His fetid breath swept down on me disgustingly and I couldn't help but think about how much I needed the Bubblehead charm at the moment, even though I admittedly had much more serious problems. I kept on struggling for a few seconds but his grip stayed inextricable.

And I realized something as the Outsider's wide muzzle hovered a few inches from my face and yet didn't bite my head off. If he had wanted me dead, I would have been already, not only now that he had me in his power, but from the very beginning probably. It had to be because of the bargain he had shared with DuMorne, which he seemed to take very seriously. It was probably worded in such a way that the demon had to bring me alive and unarmed to Dresden's guardian.

That was it, I told myself as I battled against the urge to laugh hysterically in front of such a discovery. If Justin hadn't wanted the American wizard and consequently me alive, He Who Walks Behind would have made quick work of both of us already. The Walker had practically told me that too, back in the alley, but I hadn't really thought about it, all with his relenting attacks and frightening chase. It was so clear now, though, that all he really had in mind was to subdue me.

And I could take advantage of that.

I was doing it already, I told myself determinedly. Ten seconds had already passed since he had pinned me against the wall and he was still obviously pondering about how to proceed from there. I knew he had come to a decision when his muscular arm lifted up a few inches, enough to press on my neck and windpipe and block my breathing, certainly trying to get me unconscious and… well, _cooperative_.

I gasped in pain but I didn't let myself panic, although I instinctively tried to free my arms in order to bring them up to my throat. Of course it was useless for I was still under his grip, but as my vision started swimming with multi-coloured dots, I stopped wasting so much energy struggling against him and focused on my wand instead. It was true that it wasn't pointed at my attacker, but I knew a spell that would help me anyway.

"Serpensortia!" I said, or tried to anyway. It only came out as a breathless croak, vaguely resembling the actual incantation, but it worked anyway.

The blasting rod light up immediately and smoke shot out of its tip, soon replaced by a black snake. The first thing I noticed was that it was thick, much thicker than I expected, and so long it actually took me two whole seconds to let it come out completely. When it did, I realized I was staring at the biggest snake I had ever seen, short of the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. It dropped to the ground practically in front of us and hissed in confusion over the sounds of the city outside coming from the hole in the wall.

'_Where in hell am I?_'

He Who Walks Behind growled at the newcomer, startling it as it turned its huge head around only to see the Outsider still holding me against the wall and trying to choke me. Its reaction, as it decided he was facing a foe, was so incredibly quick I would have missed it if I had blinked. In a heartbeat, it had coiled a big part of its long body on itself and shot towards the Outsider like a huge, scaly whip.

The Walker howled in anger and pain as the reptile's long fangs sank into his skin just beneath the left armpit. He tried to parry the attack or maybe turn around on instinct, and he had to let go of my neck and body as he did. I slipped down the wall while he practically slapped his attacker back, and dropped on my knees as I coughed intensely, trying to take a breath.

I looked through all my blinking as demon stared down snake while I stumbled behind it for protection.

'_Fuck,_' I heard the reptile say, '_I'm screwed._'

He Who Walks Behind just roared.

'_Help me!_' I pleaded in what I hoped came out as Parseltongue.

The snake barely glanced at me as I passed.

'_Let's see if I can help myself before that,_' it commented, but as it turned out, it couldn't.

When He Who Walks Behind attacked a second later, the conjured creature had no chance. The Outsider's left talon shot forward lightning quick, spearing through the reptile's body even as it coiled back to strike again. The snake barely had time to hiss his pain before the demon's other talon cut through the air horizontally and beheaded it.

Odd, fluorescent blood splattered on both walls as the Walker withdrew his paws, letting his opponent's head fall to the floor. Its body wriggled convulsively for a moment, before dropping to the ground as well, lifeless.

I watched the creature I had conjured die with something akin to pain or maybe guilt, but I couldn't dwell on my feelings any longer for He Who Walks Behind was surging forward once again. I gripped my rod more tightly and narrowed my eyes at him.

"Incarcerous!" I snarled angrily, and thick nautical-like ropes materialized in the air and flew towards the Outsider. They wrapped around him tightly, tying his arms to his chest and making him stumble precariously. He went past me with a growl as I dodged to the left.

"Incendio!" I shouted then, putting the ropes on fire before he could force them loose with sheer strength alone.

The Walker didn't like _my_ fire unlike Dresden's, I discovered as he howled in pain and slammed twice against one wall before throwing himself at the other, almost opening another entrance as the whole floor shook dangerously. His wild actions would help him get free from the ropes eventually, but they had caused another problematic effect already.

Fire quickly spread to the wallpaper, especially where it had been splattered with the odd blood of the snake. It ran through the fluorescent liquid as if it was oil or alcohol before extending to other unmarked areas, hot stripes of flame slithering on both sides of the corridor. Smoke soon started rolling up to the ceiling, some of it flowing out through the large hole while the majority just hovered above. A fiery tongue flickered pretty close to burn my left sleeve and I understood it was time to leave.

I turned on my heel and ran. The hallway would become a living hell soon and I didn't want to be around when it happened. I grimaced as another cough escaped my mouth. Smoke was exactly what my already battered throat needed at the moment but I tried to ignore it as I sped past some doors and towards the stairs, He Who Walks Behind's screams still echoing against the walls.

I had already reached the lower floor when the fire alarm started flaring loudly and it wasn't long before people got out of their apartments to pour into the corridors. There was panic in the faces surrounding me, more than I had ever seen, the Death Eaters' antics at the Quidditch World Cup eliciting not nearly as intense reactions as this fire. Men and women ran around like headless chickens, not even caring when children got separated from their parents or got pushed around against the wall. I helped a young girl up when I saw her crouched in a corner and ushered her to her searching mother before resuming my escape towards the stairs.

Most of the people seemed to be going to the fire escape, and that was for the best, I reasoned, for there were less chances of the Outsider to attack them there. I climbed down floor after floor in the middle of a pack of strangers and had just arrived to what I recognized as the entrance hall's doors when my march was stopped. A loud shriek resonated from the room beyond and I shouldered my way to the front to see what was going on.

He Who Walks Behind was standing in the middle of the room, his huge burnt body facing the doorway directly. He was sporting a purple bruise where the snake had struck him but he seemed otherwise fine. He stared down at me as soon as I appeared and on doorway, and he looked furious with his sharp teeth fully on display. I idly realized he had either jumped down the building or climbed down its outer walls to get here so quickly but I couldn't care less at the moment.

A young man was lying against the wall to my left, rivulets of blood coming out of a nasty gash on his head. I didn't know whether he was alive or not but my conscience didn't care as it was shaken with shame and anger.

I narrowed my eyes at the Walker for a moment before levitating the wounded man to the still frozen people behind me. The demon just watched me silently.

"Take him out of here," I ordered not even looking at them. I could easily imagine the frightened wide look on their faces. "Now."

They didn't need me to repeat the statement again and, after a second of stillness, I felt them move towards the body to drag him out of the room. A beat later, I was all alone.

As I should have been to begin with, I told myself guiltily.

I faced the Outsider once again. There would be no more running, no more avoiding the fight. I wouldn't risk or endanger the lives of others anymore. This was my battle and it was about damn time I took full responsibility of it.

A small part of me on the back of my mind whispered it _wasn't_ really my fight, it was Dresden's instead, but I shut it up quickly.

I was Dresden now.

With that in mind, I trained my rod at He Who Walks Behind and signalled him to attack.

"Come."

* * *

Author's notes - So, our Harry had a crack at hit and run tactics but now it's over. Next chapter, expect the real confrontation to end. Harry's (almost) non-verbal spells will be explained in later chapters so don't fret about it. Hope you enjoyed,

Uncle Stojil


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

Staring down a seven-foot tall mountain of a demon isn't usually a normal or even wise thing to do, but no one ever taxed me with either. I kept on doing it for maybe five seconds before realizing He Who Walks Behind wasn't really into it. I lowered my rod-arm slightly then, and frowned as I took a good look at him and got the impression the Walker was actually hesitant about attacking.

That didn't make much sense, I told myself, recalling how he had said and repeated that he was somewhat short on time. What was he waiting for? He had chased after me incessantly since I had stumbled into this world. He hadn't had any qualms against fighting me, on the contrary… and yet, now that I finally had stopped running, he was taking his time. He was looking at me intently, his yellow eyes burning with fury and…

I blinked.

Could it be… could it be that the demon was afraid?

A snort almost went past my lips at that, but I bit it back down my throat, realizing that maybe I wasn't completely off the mark. Maybe he wasn't afraid, but… wary? I caught him glancing once at his clipped foretalons, noticing how his eyes narrowed a little when shifting on me again.

I lowered my rod slightly.

"They'll grow back," I said over the fire-alarm after a moment of hesitation, testing my theory, and sure enough, what I deciphered as relief flashed on the Outsider's face. "The snake-bite though…" I continued with a tint of satisfaction in my voice. "That looks nasty."

He Who Walks Behind's growl rumbled from deep inside his throat but he eventually mirrored me in inspecting the purple bruise under his left armpit. The area had darkened considerably since the snake had hit and it had also swollen to frightening proportions. The Walker moved his arm a little as if to loosen it up before clenching and unclenching his enormous paw repeatedly.

"My magic shalt take care of it soon," he answered calmly. "Nevertheless, 'tis upsetting thy creature could even sink its fangs deep enough to inject its venom. 'Twas not a normal serpent. 'Twas not…" and at this point he made a significant pause, "of this world."

"And there's plenty more where that came from," I threatened, ignoring his not-so-veiled accusation. "I've got a whole bag full of nasty tricks I'm not afraid to use."

I was bluffing, of course. Partially, anyway. I had already used the best offensive spells I knew, bar the disarming charm, useless in this situation, and the severing curse I had yet to try. I highly doubted the most advanced spell I could use, the Patronus charm, could affect such a different being from a Dementor like the Walker was, and of course, Dresden's magic was completely useless but for some inventive application I could hopefully think of in the spur of the moment. So I was stuck with what I had already tried and little else. Not really much to brag about.

But He Who Walks Behind didn't know that. He had seen so many kinds of spell coming at him during our confrontation that he couldn't help but wonder what would come next. He had been eluded and burnt and wounded, something that really shouldn't have happened to him in a battle against a mortal teenager, something that had left him hesitant and wary and that could lead him to excessive caution or, hopefully, mistakes.

That could give me the upper hand.

And I _really_ needed any kind of helping hand I could get.

"Thou art a far more dangerous foe than I first trowed," the Walker was saying in the meantime, his voice thoughtful. "It might be impossible to capture you unharmed."

The implications of that comment weren't lost to me, but I tried to not let fear creep onto my face. I only hoped my bragging threats hadn't just pushed my enemy to get completely serious in this fight. I was probably alive only because he hadn't been until now. Still, there was nothing to gain in backing up now. I had to try and push whatever advantage I had.

"You don't understand," I said menacingly. "I'm done running which means you're done _living_. Forget about capturing me! You won't get a finger on me!"

As my voice got louder at every word, the demon grew visibly tenser by the second. His eyes narrowed dangerously and his sharp teeth came fully in view.

"Brave words for a lesser creature whose race is alive by a tenth of my age!" he snarled. "I have feasted on thy kind for millennia, even before the spark of magic lit up thy blood."

I smiled mysteriously at that and tried to lace my voice with derision.

"Do you even know what my 'kind' is?" I asked more quietly. He had been dropping hints and asking questions about magic from another world since we first talked in the dark alley. Time to try and use that to scare him a little, I thought as I let my eyes harden. "I don't belong here more than you do, demon. And my 'kind', I assure you, has never been feasted on by _anything_! Know your place!"

I checked his reaction to my words closely and I was relieved in seeing only anger and tension on his face. I was risking it all with this wild bluff and I was starting to think I was going _way_ over the top with this crazy talk. Fortunately enough, though, the Walker seemed neither disbelieving nor doubtful at the moment.

Still, psychological pressure was good and all, but it was hardly useful if not backed up by actions. Besides, I was the one strapped for time now, I reminded myself when a young couple appeared on the doorway nearby. They stumbled back almost immediately, after setting their eyes upon the demonic being blocking the way-out. The woman shrilled in panic as her boyfriend or husband dragged her away under He Who Walks Behind's watchful gaze.

I needed to hurry. I had promised myself I wouldn't have let anyone be hurt again, but people were still abandoning the building and the firemen were probably on their way to put out the blazing inferno going up upstairs. I honestly couldn't keep them safe if they got involved in this. I was too busy keeping myself alive. I had to put an end to this fight as soon as I could.

Hopefully, the plan I had just conceived would help me with that.

"Let's get this over with!" I finally shouted, more to pump myself up than anything else. I tried to look intimidating as I raised my rod. "Outsider! Here I come! Expecto Patronum!"

I gripped my weapon tightly as I set myself to think about something happy. I had vaguely decided something about my mom or dad, but it was another unexpected memory that suddenly popped up in my mind eye.

It was Elaine. Elaine spread beneath me as I made love to her for the first time. Elaine as she smiled sweetly, evidently in pain, before pulling my head down to hers to kiss my forehead. Elaine as she hugged me and whispered my name.

It took me a moment to remind myself, over the flood of emotions that overwhelmed me, that that memory wasn't mine, that it was Dresden's. That I had never been embraced like that, nor been called like that. That I had never ever been loved… or loved _anyone_ with that kind of intensity.

I exhaled slowly as I finally let my heartbeat slow down. Dresden's intrusion of sorts had been surprising and somewhat upsetting, but it had accomplished something else other than the appearance of the stag I needed.

It had reminded me of who I was fighting for.

Prongs came to life surprisingly fast, almost prancing out of my blasting rod even as the magical focus whistled and trembled with the effort. It jumped in front of me before turning to He Who Walks Behind and I stared at it intensely as the emotional aftermath of Dresden's memory winded down.

A beat later, the summoned animal was charging at full speed towards the demon, his long antlers pointed straight at him. The Walker faced it directly and roared his challenge as he waited for it to reach him. When it did a second later, the demon swung at it with his right arm, the sharp talon raised to behead it. His expression when it went right through the misty creature as if only meeting air was one of stunned surprise.

He never noticed the light of the spell I had launched in the Patronus' wake.

The severing curse cut off He Who Walks Behind's outstretched arm neatly a few inches below the shoulder. It dropped at his feet with a spray of blood, a dark pool of it immediately forming around it on the concrete floor. The Walker howled in anger and pain as the mist of the dissolving stag evaporated and his eyes immediately searched the spot where he had last seen me.

I wasn't there anymore. In seeing how the Patronus had obscured the Outsider's vision, I had immediately run to his left and fired off my next spell. When he eventually noticed me and the Reductor curse aimed at his head almost upon him, I couldn't help but grin.

It was too late.

"Gotcha," I let out breathlessly.

But I was wrong.

In the split of the second before it could connect, He Who Walks Behind opened his muzzle and screamed.

It was the loudest scream I had ever heard, a high-pitch howl that drowned out the fire-alarm and made me stagger backwards with its sheer intensity. It wasn't that it was intimidating - the Walker's roars howls of challenge were much more terrifying for example - but it was so damn loud... The last thing I saw before stumbling down to one knee and squeezing my eyes in pain was the blue light of my spell dispersing as if coloured powder scattered around by a strong wind. I let go of my rod then, and covered my ears as strongly as I could, hoping against hope they would muffle the noise and lessen the pain. They did somewhat, but I was still left incapacitated for the whole duration of the scream.

It continued for so long I thought my head would explode, and when it finally ended, I was dizzy and numb for another long minute. I gingerly let go of my ears then, and dropped disorientated on all fours, exhaling slowly before looking up again.

He Who Walks Behind was still rooted in the middle of the entrance hall, the severed arm lying at his feet and his slightly opened muzzle pointed in my direction. He was panting now, and standing as tense as a guitar string, blood and slime dripping from his stump. His yellow eyes focused on me and he let out a long sigh before calming down his breathing.

I shook my head slightly, partially because of the disorientation and partially because of the disbelief. My plan had worked so well and I had been so proud of it… using the Patronus charm that way would have only worked against an opponent who didn't know what it was, which meant it was practically useless in a wizard duel, but it had been so perfect for this situation… especially if you considered that the Walker had previously been wounded by another animal I had summoned. And yet, with that bloody scream…

Reaching for my blasting rod, I tried to ignore my ringing ears and stand up again. I managed to do it a little unsteadily a second later and slowly turned to face the demon. He too seemed to be taking his time recovering from whatever he had done, and when he did, I fortunately was ready once again. I raised my weapon and trained it on him as I shook off the remnants of my dizziness.

"I had…" He Who Walks Behind suddenly said, his voice hoarse after that insane scream. He let out a long breath. "It had been a long time since I was last forced to use that."

He looked down at his severed limb before crouching to pick it up with his only remaining forepaw. He stared at it with morbid curiosity while gripping it from the wrist and I actually saw his yellow eyes twinkle for a moment. _My eyes_ widened, instead, when he tried to move the bloody appendage like the club that it actually resembled.

"You've got to be kidding me," I whispered while the Walker tried his best impression of the troll in the bathroom I had fought in my first year at Hogwarts. And this time, I doubted a Levitation charm would be all that was needed.

A second later, He Who Walks Behind was charging at me with the severed appendage raised over his head. The Reductor curse I hastily fired went past him, missing his muzzle by inches and eventually striking the left door leading outside. As concrete, glass and metal pieces shot everywhere, the demon dodged my next curse and practically leaped upon me. He got so close I could hear the low growl rising from his throat and smell the stench of his breath coming out of his muzzle.

I was trying to cast another severing charm against him when his arm – or better arms, probably – came crashing down on me. Maybe I moved quickly enough to dodge it or maybe he still was doing his best not to hurt me, but whatever the case, his club-like arm only struck the floor harmlessly. I say harmlessly, but that's only compared to what the attack would have done to me if it had hit me directly.

Instead, my body only had to endure the unpleasantness of being showered by dozens of stone bullets, which was what part of the concrete practically turned to after the blow. Most of them hit me squarely on the back with relative damage, but at least a couple pierced my left calf and thigh. I hopped towards the wall on one leg with a half-uttered curse – a very classy non-magical curse, that is – before turning around and bracing myself.

"Protego!"

The dome of protective light appeared a split of a second before He Who Walks Behind had reached me, and the glimmering gems on his severed arm sent sparks flying in all directions as they struck it with a clang. I put my back against the wall and braced for what was to come. The next blow had my wand-hand shake so much that my very shield flickered for a second before springing back to full force. I watched the light of exultance glimmer in the Outsider's eyes as he recognized the opening and attacked again. And again. And again.

Crap.

The truth is… fighting for your life is extremely tiring. Exhausting even. It's not a matter of how long do you fight or how intensely… It's just that it drains you. There's this first moment when you get this incredible adrenaline boost that drowns everything, even the most sickening fear, and it makes you feel powerful, invincible. Energy pours out of every pore of your body and your next movement is faster, your next curse more powerful, your aim more precise. _You're not gonna die today_, it tells you.

But it never lasts. As soon as that step, that spell, that shot has been taken, things start settling down. Your blood pumps slower, your energy level decreases. You're left with the notion that you very easily may die in the next few minutes if you don't try your best not to. It's that knowledge that does it, that actually makes everything harder, more painful and demanding. And in one minute you've spent ten times the energy you would have normally spent in doing the exact same things in other circumstances. At least, that's what had always happened to me.

That's why the best nights of sleep in my life were after a fight, and being hurt was only part of the reason. I also had so much experience about it that I could easily recognize the moment I was about to give out.

And that moment had come, unfortunately.

He Who Walks Behind kept on hammering at my magic shield with wild fury and every blow against its shimmering surface was like a screw rammed against my brain, as I flattened myself against the wall. It took tremendous effort just to keep my focus now and I knew I would soon become sluggish enough to make a fatal mistake.

On his part, the Walker seemed as strong as ever and as determined as hell, only his severed arm was now in such a bad shape it barely looked like an arm at all. Stripes of skin dangled from many spots on it, only held together by the colourful gems still firmly embedded in its flesh, and blood sprayed out and onto the demon's chest and face every time it hit. The Outsider didn't seem to care though. His feral grin widened when my shield once again trembled visibly before sputtering back up.

I needed to end this fight soon but I really had no idea of how to break out of this losing stalemate I had jammed myself into. There was nowhere to run and no time to do it. Even if I let down the shield to launch some kind of curse, I could never move my rod and say the incantation fast enough to avoid being splattered by the shredded club of flesh falling down on me. The blow would probably slow down a little to knock me unconscious instead of killing me – which seemed to be the demon's true goal – but not nearly enough for me to actually do something about it. But then, if the shield had to stay up, my only weapon was occupied on defensive purposes and I was powerless. Dresden's magic could be used without a magical focus but it had no effect on-

And then I got… calling it an idea would have been wishful thinking. It was more like a crazy and desperate gamble. Blinking sweat out of my eyes, I spotted the pieces of concrete, glass and metal near the entrance door, debris I had accidentally created with my missed Reductor curse. Trying to angle my shield to the left in order to have a large enough window for what I was about to do, I raised my free hand and pointed it at my target as I started gathering my will.

"Vento!" I all but snarled, struggling to split my focus between both the shield and the spell without botching either one. "Ventas servitas!"

Using two spells at the same time is, quite simply, impossible. Every wizard knows that. It is stated clearly in every first-year book adopted at Hogwarts, and furthermore pointed out by all the Professors teaching the so called 'wand-classes'. Double casting had also been mentioned by Binns in one, if not the only one survivable History of Magic lesson I had ever assisted to. There were interesting legends about it as well, Ron had always loved them, all of them talking about a fantastic nameless wizard who supposedly could do that in ancient times.

Of course, nobody believed that, not after all the great wizard of the past who had studied the subject had failed. I had tried it once too, in my fourth year, pretty much out of desperation when the upcoming task against the dragon was completely freaking me out. No results, obviously. Only one spell ever came out as normal.

So, why was I trying it again?

One of the reasons must have been desperation, once again, but beyond that there was something more concrete. Both my brief first-hand experience with it and my new set of memories told me that Dresden's magic was something different… _entirely_ different from the one I was used to from Hogwarts. They were simply two different kinds of energy, with something in common, of course, but even more points of divergence.

It was for that reason that I thought and hoped my plan would succeed. It wasn't like I was trying to use two spells, use my magic to do two things at the same time. Instead, I was using mine to do one thing and Dresden's to do another. It could work, couldn't it?

And it did. It wasn't impossible, after all. But it was _bloody_ difficult!

I… I didn't _exactly_ mess up, but the spell admittedly didn't come out as I wanted it to. The blast of wind I had focussed on creating should have hurled the debris directly at He Who Walks Behind. Instead, my summoned gale lifted them well higher than I had expected, arching up to the ceiling before raining down again. Some of them hit the Walker on the back of the head but the vast majority struck my shield instead.

The resulting effects were incredibly lucky.

Concrete, glass and metal hit the translucent barrier at very high speed and immediately ricocheted away, even faster than before. They rebounded towards the Outsider, shredding his arm-club to pieces before proceeding to the demon himself.

He Who Walks Behind howled in surprise and pain as sharp glass and metal pieces plunged into his eyes and into his widened muzzle. He fell backwards at once, his arm letting go of what remained of his severed one to try and shield himself. New blood started rolling down his face and he started chocking on whatever got stuck in his throat.

I let my shield die after that, as I watched the Walker kneeling down in pain. I stood there panting for another second before raising my blasting rod. If there was something Justin DuMorne had taught Dresden, it was that you didn't fight fair if you wanted to come out on top against the odds.

Fighting dirty was the way to go.

"Reducto!" I croaked, and the blue light of the spell found the Outsider's hand in front of his face and literally blew it off. The demon's roars reached a higher ceiling as he turned around blindly towards me. He took maybe two shaky steps before I could muster the strength to attack again. "Reducto! Diffindo! Lacero! Reducto!"

By the time I was finished, the entrance hall had long since fallen into silence with the exception of my laboured breathing. He Who Walks Behind was a sticky mass of blood, flesh and gems now, and football-sized parts of his body lay pretty much everywhere around me. They all turned to goo as I watched it. Ectoplasm, Dresden's memories suggested me, the matter of the spirit world. I looked at what remained of the demon splattered all over the place and found myself fighting down a deep sense of satisfaction.

I lowered the blasting rod down to my side and scowled.

"Lesser creature my ass."

And that said, I dropped on my back exhausted.

* * *

Author's notes – Short chapter, I know, but I thought it was a good enough ending. After reading some of your reviews, I'm tempted to give away a few details about the future of this story, for you are _waaaay_ off the mark. But then again, I like to keep people guessing. Always appreciate the feedback, though.

Till next time,

Uncle Stojil


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

I didn't get up until smoke appeared above my head and the sound of sirens reached my ears. I had the strong impression my body had turned to lead but my head felt weightless at the same time. I stumbled my way to the other side of the entrance hall, idly noticing that the ectoplasm that had once been He Who Walks Behind had already disappeared, leaving everything perfectly clean behind. Pushing the abused doors outwards, I stepped out of the building.

Across the street and on the sidewalk beyond, a bunch of people was looking up at the burning floors above me, talking to each other mostly with distressed tones. Feeling justifiably paranoid, I peered intently at their faces, lit up both by the streetlamps and the red hue of the fire, before dismissing my suspicions. While a few seemed like curious onlookers, most of them must have been residents of the building for they looked scared or occasionally even pissed. Some had obviously escaped their apartments in a real hurry, judging by their choice of clothing - which they probably hadn't had the time to choose at all - while others had apparently had enough time to take a few things with them.

As a couple of fire trucks and an ambulance sped out of a side street and towards me, I started walking away briskly in the other direction. My first stop was the dark alley a few blocks away where He Who Walks Behind had first confronted me. I had been forced to leave Dresden's rucksack there and I intended to get it back now that I knew how to put to good use what was inside. I found it near the crate that the Walker had shattered and checked it to make sure everything was still there.

Once ready, I set off towards Justin's place and what I was pretty sure would be another hard fight. I tried to ignore the voice in the back of my head telling me to run away, to not charge head down into a confrontation that was frankly evitable, unlike the one against the Outsider. No one was chasing after me this time. I could just mind my own business, as Harry Potter instead of Harry Dresden, and avoid a fight against a man who really had done nothing to me. I could have done that, waited somewhere safe for someone to wake my real body out of this nightmare.

Out of what I now feared was another world.

The suspicion had started creeping into my mind from the beginning of this dream, vision or whatever it was, and especially after all of He Who Walks Behind's accusations, it had pretty much grown to a convintion. True, there wasn't much really confirming the theory but, come on… Faerie godmothers, archaic-English-speaking demons, Spanish incantations, blasting rods and magical storms…

It just couldn't be my world.

I only hoped someone would get me out of here before any of that started to make sense.

But was that actually going to happen, after all? Had I any guarantee that it would? No, I hadn't. I could have been stuck inside this 6-3 American wizard forever, for all I knew. And in that case, was it advisable or even just possible to flee from Dresden's guardian for who knows how long? Might as swell fight him now, I told myself.

And even if it didn't come down to that, if somehow this weird possession ended and I went back to my own body, could I really live on with the knowledge that I had left Harry Dresden alone to a fight he wasn't ready to handle? The American wizard wasn't weak or anything, but he had never even come close to beating Justin in a duel in all his years of harsh training. DuMorne was simply too refined and resourceful to be beaten by power alone, which was pretty much all the lanky teenager had. I, on the other hand, had defeated an _Outsider_, and even though there had been a lot of luck on my part, Harry Dresden would have never been able to do it.

Of course, fighting against Justin was going to be a completely different game and I wasn't sure the same cards that had beaten He Who Walks Behind would be useful against the wizard. After all, DuMorne wasn't immune to this world's magic like the Walker had been, and _my fire_ would burn him just as much as Dresden's would. This time the problem lay somewhere else. That said, my own magic, unknown to him, could give us an advantage.

The thought made me blink, and I froze for a moment on the sidewalk as I was exiting the alley.

Us…

Was I really thinking on those terms already? It was difficult to maintain a firm separation between Dresden and me when I knew his past like I knew mine and his mind inside and out. I would have to get used to it, hoping in the meantime that the drawing line wouldn't get any less clear than that…

I spotted a bus temporarily stuck in a traffic jam, and recognizing it as one that would have brought me pretty much where I wanted to, I jogged to the nearby stop to catch it. My legs ached horribly as I did, but I managed to hop on right before its doors closed. I dragged myself to an empty seat and, settling the rucksack between my feet, I plopped down with a grunt.

I had made up my mind and really, not even all of my earlier reasonings put together held the same weight on my decision as Elaine did. It all came down to her, in the end. I couldn't just sit around while she unsuspectingly headed for what she still considered home without knowing what expected her. Dresden would never forgive me for that. And I wouldn't either, probably.

Unfortunately, I had nothing to reach her with. Dresden had left his pentacle amulet, identical to hers, at Justin's place when he had had to run away helter-skelter from there. A thaumaturgic spell was out of question, then. The best plan was to intercept her near the house.

I had been lucky once again. The bus I had jumped on was like a godsend, and not only because it gave me the chance to rest for a few minutes. I turned slowly to an old woman behind me and asked for the time. It was six ten according to her watch and I couldn't help but frown a little in hearing that. I looked at the traffic ahead and rubbed my forehead, internally damning the fact there was no soothing scar to scratch on. Elaine usually got home at half-past six, more or less, but I absolutely needed to be there before that.

Fifteen minutes later, I was begging the bus driver to let me get off a hundred feet before the actual stop. A second later, I was hurriedly walking down a side street, looking frantically around in search of either friend or foe.

_Elaine!_ I was calling in the meantime through the communion spell Dresden shared with her. I put enough will behind her name it could have actually been considered mental shouting. If the girl was at reasonable distance, she would definitely hear me.

I grew ever more careful as I got closer to Justin's place, hiding in the long shadows between houses and lowering my magical voice to avoid being perceived by the wizard. The magical storm was gathered exactly above me now, and I doubted Dresden's former teacher could have sensed anything over it. I sure as hell couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. The brewing energy was grating on my wizard senses like nails on a chalkboard and I wondered if it wasn't maybe getting in the way of my communion spell to contact Elaine. I couldn't do anything about it though, so I just kept on moving forward until I felt I had reached a good spot, hidden behind a white van in the shadows under a high porch.

Justin's place looked sinister even on the brightest of days, but right now that the sun had long since set, it looked positively spectral. I shook my head at the negative suggestion, though. It probably was just the nearby streetlamp buzzing on and off repeatedly, or maybe the new attitude Dresden had towards it after his guardian's stunning betrayal, because the American wizard had lived in that house for almost six years now, and he had never had any real problem with it, per se. At the most, he could have thought it was somewhat creepy, being it slightly darker and detached from the houses surrounding it, but nothing more.

It was actually two different short buildings, the house itself and the lab. I ignored the former and focused on the latter, moving behind the van and into the darkest shadows under the porch until I had a perfect view of its front door. It was in the lab that Justin had summoned He Who Walks Behind and there the wizard was most certainly waiting for Dresden. Only, he was expecting him escorted by his little demon and not free as the air and ready for a fight. Harry Potter messing up his plans was definitely something he wasn't expecting.

The lab was a stocky concrete building standing to the left of the house. The brown garage-door leading inside was currently closed, but there was light coming out of the obscure glass in the front. Beyond that, on the side I couldn't see from my hiding spot, another wide window was set high on the wall, looking into the lab from behind. That was the entrance Dresden and Elaine used to sneak in if they didn't want their guardian to know. The wards there were much easier to bring up and down than the ones at the door, and it was actually shielded from view from both the house and the street. The two lovers went there whenever they wanted extra-practice, a safe place to temporarily avoid their teacher, and some times a good place to… ah, kidding around. Justin had never been aware of that, at least as far as the two young wizards knew, and that was the reason why I had decided to use that window to get inside the lab this time around as well.

Going in by the front door was too dangerous without some sort of plan or trick, anyway. It would take too much time to disarm all the wards there and a skill I didn't possess to do it without Justin noticing. So was pretending to be under He Who Walks Behind's control. I had toyed with the idea of creating an illusion of the Outsider to try and fool DuMorne into lowering his guard, but that too was wishful thinking. No… my best chance was to enter by the back window, no other way around it. Justin usually sat with his back to it at his own worktable, facing the door. With a bit of luck, he wouldn't even see it opening.

I looked around worriedly but there was no sign of Elaine yet. Was she already inside? Had I arrived too late?

My brain started conjuring horrible scenarios I wasn't ready to face. I felt sick already. It was so distressing to be so involved in all this. I… I shouldn't have cared _this much_ about a girl I had never met, but I couldn't help it. It became so upsetting just thinking about what could be happening to her that Dresden's presence emerged forcefully from the back of my mind and for a long second I had to make a great effort to regain control of myself. The storm wasn't helping either and for the next few minutes I just focused on the blackness behind my eyelids as I tried to calm down.

When I opened my eyes again, I had reached my decision. It was too risky to waste time here. If Elaine had… if she was already inside, she might need my help _immediately_. I couldn't just wait around doing nothing.

Blasting rod once again in hand, I moved silently across the porch and then down a side alley. I hid the rucksack behind a trashcan and then walked around the next few houses before doubling back, soon appearing under the obscure window on the back of the lab.

I cast a quick look to make sure no one was around before casting a disillusionment charm on myself. I hesitated a moment before deciding to use a veil as well.

Harry Dresden and veils didn't 't exactly see eye to eye. That magical skill had always given him problems to the point where, no matter how long or hard he focused, he just couldn't produce a reliable one. That didn't mean he couldn't do it at all, though… only that what usually came out was easily pierceable and at times shaky. He just didn't have that particular talent, unlike Elaine who was pretty gifted at it.

Anyway, a durable and resistant veil was not what I was looking for at the moment. I only needed to hold it for a few seconds, enough to disarm the wards and pass through the window. That I could do. Anything lasting longer than that would just be a bonus. I admittedly couldn't stop myself from fantasizing about going down there completely invisible, stunning the unsuspecting Justin and be done with it, but I feared it wouldn't be so easy.

I closed my eyes, then, and gathered my will, shaping my intent with in mind the image of what I wanted to do. I pictured myself disappearing from view, the very air left in my place looking not worth glancing at, either. Then I started imagining a very thin cloth, draping around my invisible self tightly and containing any wandering energy coming off of my body. I actually felt it for the briefest moment, cool and silky on my skin, before making it disappear in my mental eye as well.

I breathed out, impressed, while checking my work both with my normal and my wizard senses. This was the best veil Dresden had ever managed and, well… _I_ had managed it. I caught myself smiling like an idiot and immediately stopped. Pressing down the swell of pride that had unexpectedly risen inside of me, I reasoned that it probably was just a result of Dresden's bargain for power he had made with Lea. And now that I thought about it, every one of the evocation spells I had used had looked much stronger than what his memories suggested. Even though the live-or-die situations had probably contributed to it, the high sidhe was most certainly as much at fault as that.

Trying hard not to think about Dresden's crazy deal with his godmother, I walked up to the window and felt for its wards. Recognizing them as the usual, I began unravelling them with experience-born speed. Once done, I raised my clammy free hand to the shutter and pushed nervously. The window gave in without opposition, widening silently to show me what was beyond. At the light of dozens of candles, Justin's lab opened before my eyes.

Obviously intended as a garage, the stocky construction had been turned into a one-room laboratory long before Dresden had first put a foot inside of it. On one side, a long metal worktable was pressed against the concrete wall, one of its corners slightly dented after one particularly dangerous potion mishap had taken place there. A wide variety of books were shelved above it, together with different jars of various levels of creepiness and size. Two smaller tables had been set on the other side of the room when Justin had finally decided both Dresden and Elaine had earned their own little corners inside the lab, now a few years before. Dresden's desk looked very messy compared to Elaine's perfectly organized one, but I couldn't judge him for that. I wasn't exactly tidy myself. In the furthest corner from me, just beside the garage-door, there was a fairly large area left completely clear but for the three-rings magic circle on the ground where He Who Walks Behind had been summoned. There was also a high cabinet next to it, a solid wooden cupboard where all three wizards kept spare equipment and ingredients.

It took me a second to see Justin, sitting at his worktable and almost completely hidden by the wide back of his leather chair. I couldn't see his face at all. His left elbow resting on the armrest was his only visible body part under the light of the candles all around. He couldn't see me either, facing the other way as he was, and I moved quickly to take advantage of it.

Letting out a silent breath, I temporarily set the blasting rod on the windowsill to lift myself up with both hands. I put first one knee then the other on it before moving my legs to the other side. Once my feet had touched the ground again, all was left to do was to pick up my weapon and-

Justin spoke up.

"What are you playing at, Elaine?"

We turned around at the exact same time, me with the blasting rod in hand and him with a small smile on his face, still leaning on his leather chair. He must have immediately picked up something he wasn't expecting, either with his eyes or wizard senses, for his amused expression turned to a puzzled frown. I decided I didn't want to let him puzzle over any more information than that and targeted him at once.

"Stupefy!"

The red light of the spell flew at high speed towards the chair but Justin was faster. As surprise and anger chased one another on his face, his right hand sprung up, silver bracelet around it jingling slightly before a fluorescent azure shield materialized in front of him. The stunner died on its shimmering surface.

"Harry?" Justin shouted in disbelief, dropping the shield and jumping out of his chair. "What the fuck?"

I stared at him with narrowed eyes as a strong pang of anger rose from Dresden. He was a man in his late forties, Justin DuMorne, or he looked like it, anyway. Being a wizard, he probably had lived twice as long to look like that. He was tall, not as tall as Dresden, but at least 6-1, with a lean body still very fit for whatever his age was. Short black hair receding at the temples gave him a sort of bad-boy look, especially paired up with his low brow and his dark, penetrating eyes. He had his left hand raised, palm directly pointed in my direction, and I had the strong impression he was actually looking at me.

Moving silently a few feet to my right, I watched as both his hand and gaze followed me steadily.

"Harry?" he called again as if not completely sure it was me yet. "Harry, who veiled you?"

Fuck it, I thought. He knew where I was, anyway. As I carefully took notice of Justin's staff leaning harmlessly against the wall, I decided to answer him.

"I did it myself," I said, a slightly bragging tone tinting my first try at Dresden's accent.

"It's a lie," he stated without any doubt. "Your veils are awful."

He swept his right hand in my direction and… it was like being breathed on by a huge hairdryer, hitting me from head to toe. And just like that, I became visible once again. He had been so fast I hadn't even had the time to _think_ about defending myself. And he hadn't just disrupted the veil. He had somehow cancelled the disillusionment charm as well! How good was he really?

I noticed I wasn't the only one surprised, though. Justin's expression was probably a pretty good mirror-image of mine.

"You weren't lying… It really was your doing…" he said, stunned, while his eyes narrowed. "When did you get this good at it?"

Maybe it was the roundabout praise or maybe just knowing he was at least a little bit unsettled about me, but I actually felt some of my initial confidence coming back to me despite the admittedly not-so-good start.

"Maybe I've always been this good," I suggested cheekily. "Maybe you've just been sleeping on me."

"Oh no, Harry," he said at once, both his tone and his smile creepy. "I've been watching you _very_ closely. And I've been doing that for years and years, since before picking you up from that orphanage."

His eyes blazed with a fire I couldn't recognize, which gave him the appearance of a madman. His voice lowered to a harsh whisper.

"We could even say I've been studying you."

I have no problem with admitting it unnerved me. A lot.

"Fuck you!" I replied smartly, raising my rod. "Forzare!"

Justin laughed as my magic met his shield. I put a lot of effort behind my spell and at least managed to make him work hard to defend himself.

"Such power!" he shouted over the noise of my evocation blasting at his barrier. "You'll make a very fine enforcer, Harry! Great, even!"

I could see his expression beyond the sparks of our magic, his teeth grinding together both in amusement and for the effort. I let the spell die and regarded his red face with something akin to vindictive pleasure, but sort of felt cheated out of it when he started grinning once again. I covered up my own panting as I started circling him very slowly, trying not to let him realize my objective was the staff behind him.

"Where's Elaine?"

His smile actually widened.

"She's not here yet, but she's bound to arrive any minute, now, isn't she?" I couldn't help a nervous glance towards the window and he noticed it. "What? Were you here to save your damsel in distress? I'm so sorry to disappoint you."

I snorted at his taunting voice.

"It's better that way," I replied. "She won't have to see what I'm going to do to you."

He laughed once again, a sound that was grating on my nerves now.

"You better hurry, then," he eventually said. "You can't escape Outsiders for long, Harry. No one can. He will appear at the door like the angel of death and… ops!" I felt a surge of intent from him and then the wards around the house disappeared. "No threshold. No more wards. He will walk right in to get you!"

It was my turn to grin like a maniac now.

"Maybe you can't escape them, but you sure as hell can beat them to a pulp," I said smugly. "I did just that half an hour ago."

The smile had dropped off his face in the meantime.

"Liar."

"Am I?"

"You expect me to believe you defeated He Who Walks Behind?"

"Chopped and blasted him to pieces," I specified with a nod. "Burned and poisoned him before that. Manicured him too."

He snorted, not believing me even for a second.

"What did you do? Bargained with him? Hid under the skirt of your lovely Godmother?" His expression turned exulting as something must have shown on my face. "You did, didn't you? That's why we are alike, you and I. Always looking for power, always trying to push ourselves further."

I shook my head and regarded him like you regard a deluded man. I knew what he was talking about. I knew it better than him, maybe better than even Harry Dresden did, despite it concerning him personally.

The truth was the young American had loved Justin. He still did to some extent. DuMorne had been the only person to actually believe in him when no one else did and when he was all alone, something I could sympathize with greatly. He had given him a home and a family when he had actually started to despair about it. He had also taught him magic, which was so much more than a simple discipline or even art that without it Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden would not have been himself at all. Of course, Justin was doing all that with his own selfish agenda in mind, but that didn't really change anything. It didn't change Dresden's feelings for the surrogate father-figure the harsh man had become to him. It didn't change the years spent striving for acceptance and appreciation in the only way he knew he would have been successful.

Through magic.

The first few months with Justin had been the hardest and among the happiest of his whole life. The strict wizard rarely praised his student, but the first few times he had done that, it had been like Christmas come earlier for Dresden. The boy had dived into magic books and exercises with a spirit he had always lacked until that moment, while spying his guardian's face out of the corner of the eye for any sign of pride.

Soon enough, magic had become much more than just a means to find approval and with the arrival of Elaine it had evolved into something else entirely, but that initial purpose had never completely disappeared.

But it was proof of how unloving, twisted or even inhuman Justin was that all he saw in Dresden's behaviour was a thirst for power, probably just a stark projection of what the wizard really housed inside himself.

He was a bit like Voldemort in that sense.

"I'm nothing like you," I said eventually, and I really was speaking for the both of us. "I'm going to take Elaine and our stuff and leave this place. And if I have to kill you to do it, then I will."

My words enraged him in a way I hadn't expected. As soon as I mentioned leaving, and even more when I threatened him personally, his eyes widened with such a burning fury and his face turned so brightly red that I thought the bulging jugular in his neck would simply explode. His lip curled up to show his teeth much like an animal would do and he took a step towards me as his whole body tensed.

I couldn't recall Dresden ever seeing him this angry.

"You… fucking… idiot!" The words came out of his mouth as if after a strenuous effort, and spittle accompanied them as he raged against me. "I tried… I tried to reason with you. To make you understand. It's your own damn fault we got to this point!"

"My fault?" I shouted back, completely forgetting my fake accent in my outrage. "You tried to enslave me!"

"You didn't leave me any other choice!" was his furious reply, but there was also a trace of frustration in his voice. "You just… wouldn't… listen!"

I pressed down Dresden's presence re-surfacing once again and immediately reigned on my temper. This confrontation was making _me _angry. I couldn't even imagine what would happen if I let the young American loose. No, he was _way_ too involved in this to even risk it. I limited myself to a scowl as Justin ranted on.

"The world, Harry. Mortal and spiritual plane both, they will be mine," he continued passionately, sounding like he genuinely wanted me to understand. His eyes tinged with something dark and hungry. "When my plan is finally set in motion, no one – NO ONE – is going to stand in my way! I will be a God! And I would have made you a King if you hadn't spit down on my offer like the fool you are. Now…" and here his lips twisted to form a nasty smile, "I'm just going to make you my puppet."

I could only shake my head at him, feeling completely stunned in front of this kind of speech and behaviour. Yes, Dresden had always thought there was something deeply wrong in Justin, in how he taught his students or even in just how he lived his life, but he had never thought it was actually this bad. Since I was basically sharing his mind, I had come here accordingly, expecting to find a dangerous foe, yes, but not… _this_. A deluded madman who wanted to rule the world. That was so… cliché.

"You are insane," I stated almost disbelievingly. "I'd rather die than let you control me."

He frowned for a moment before smiling once again.

"I don't think it will come down to that," he said.

And then the spell hit me.

It felt like being wrapped in a tight cloth, much like the veil I had produced earlier but a whole lot more constricting. Even breathing became hard under that unseen pressure, while moving was simply out of question. As the binding locked around me, my first automatic reaction was to fight it physically, which was, of course, completely useless. I struggled against it for a second before extending my wizard senses towards the spell, immediately looking for a weak point, an opening, while I wondered how the hell could he have gotten me.

What I found left me shocked to the bone.

Not even a second later, my widening eyes registered what my magic had already picked up –Elaine, now coming out of her veil next to Justin.

"Sorry, Harry," I heard her say in an apologetic tone.

Then I knew no more.

As intense confusion, pain and anger flooded right through me, Harry Dresden took over.

It happened so fast I couldn't do anything to stop it, and frankly I was simply too stunned to even try. My consciousness was forcefully pushed back to a dark corner of his mind as the American wizard took his rightful place at the cockpit.

I saw the events unfolding after that as if in a hazy dream. My brain vaguely registered that words were uttered, magic circles were drawn, clothes were… shed? Yeah… it looked like it. Elaine stood now naked somewhere out of the dark pit I had been hurled into. What was happening? I couldn't seem to properly focus my attention on anything, the need to start doing so being pretty much the only thing I could think of. It was as if I was cut off from my own mind.

That didn't stop me from _feeling_ everything Dresden was going through, though. His pain and his rage were like a lifebuoy in the middle of a rushing torrent and I held onto it with the desperation of a drowning man. Those emotions, as intense, flashy and actually hurting as explosions, were my only contact with the outer reality I had been pulled out from.

It was by clinging to them that I started following what was happening beyond. They became captions for the blurry images jumbling my brain, and although still not keeping up, I at least didn't feel completely lost anymore.

There was a foreign chanting and a wave of panic, then a deep sigh and concentration. A struggle preceded a bolt of exultation and movement. Anger and power followed.

Then nothing.

I was so surprised by the sudden absence of sensations that I almost let the chance pass by. Instead, I managed to react just in time to escape the place I had been confined to, struggling against Dresden's now nonexistent opposition. I fought my way to the surface then, right as fury and guilt once again exploded from the American wizard, and eventually I successfully emerged back to reality.

The next few seconds were among the clearest I could remember ever living. Maybe it was coming out of a place where senses barey existed or maybe it just was one of those incredible moments that occurred so rarely in a lifetime, but whatever the case, in a handful of instants, I saw with incredible lucidity all that was happening around me. From the unconscious Elaine, slumped naked to the floor, to Justin, standing a few feet away and chanting from inside a magic circle drawn on the concrete floor. I felt power gathered above him as he prepared his spell, and felt some of my own coming from my raised right hand, pointed directly at the wizard. It was by following those same tendrils of magic that I finally noticed Justin's staff, flying through the air as if in slow motion, moving under my unconscious command that I realized was remnant of whatever spell Dresden had cast before I regained control.

And when I understood where exactly the big magical foci was directed to, I could only turn to Justin and enjoy the widening of his eyes.

The long staff met his circle a second later. It flew right by his shoulder, barely grazing it with its pointy tip, before flying harmlessly away. But that didn't matter. What did matter, instead, was that a physical object had passed through the confines of the circle, shattering its own integrity and disrupting Justin's spell.

Wild, undirected energy swooped down on the wizard like a dark cloud of smoke and soot, and for a brief second it completely hid him from view as a loud swooshing sound echoed against the walls of the lab. The magical explosion that followed, completely colourless and soundless, hurled Justin away at incredible speed, making him tumble and roll akwardly before slamming him against the garage-door. He was clearly the one who had it worse considering he had found himself exactly in the middle of it, but he wasn't the only one affected. Far from it.

Before being thrown away myself, I saw Elaine's body impacting the wall, not nearly as hard as Justin but enough to _really_ bruise. I got luckier, only having to deal with a bad landing on my back and a hard head-butt against the concrete floor. I was left breathless and dizzy for the next few seconds as things flew above my head before shattering and smashing all around me.

One minute later, the lab had fallen into complete silence. I couldn't feel the wandering energy anymore but I didn't completely trust any of my senses at the moment. I was so tired, both physically, magically and emotionally, that I thought lying there forever wasn't such a bad idea. My breathing was regaining its regularity and my head had stopped spinning, but the extreme exhaustion just wouldn't leave. Whatever Dresden had done while in control of this body had pretty much finished the job I had started with the fight against He Who Walks Behind.

I just needed a moment to recover.

I was about to actually doze off when a familiar voice speared the deep silence and my brain.

"Master?" it called cautiously. "Master, can you hear me?"

I blinked and tried to reconnect the jumbled thoughts wandering around in my mind. I raised my head a few inches to take a look around before lowering it back down to the cold floor as the whole world went back to spinning.

"Master?" the voice repeated louder and after another brief silence it finally resumed much more flippantly. "Okay, Harry. I think he's knocked out. Harry? Harry! Quit napping in a moment like this and get me out of here! "

Wincing a little while slowly trying to move again, I propped myself up on my elbows and squeezed my eyes at the cabinet near the window and it's showing glass, beyond which the voice was coming from.

"Bob?" I slurred dazedly.

"No, the Tooth Fairy," the spirit of intellect fired back at once. "You should try becoming a detective, Harry."

I ignored his sarcasm as I carefully sit up, taking in the whole lab as I did. The room looked like a real mess in the dim light of the few candles that had stayed alive after the explosion. Small fires had started in a couple of places, flames glimmering lazily in the semi-darkness of the room, while books and jars had been thrown off their shelves and were now scattered brokenly everywhere. Only the area in the middle of the room, where the magical mishap had set place, was completely clear of any debris. At the garage-door, slumped against it in an unnatural position, Justin lay on the floor, a thin rivulet of blood trickling down his forehead. Elaine wasn't moving either a few feet away from him, but I couldn't see any wound from where I was.

With some effort and the aid of the wall, I finally managed to stand up on my shaky legs.

"What happened?" I asked confusedly as I shook some lingering dizziness out of my head. I tried to piece together what I remembered, but between the blow to the head and the hazy events that had taken place while Dresden was in charge, I felt awfully lost. "Bob?"

"A nasty business, Harry, that's what happened," was the somber reply coming from the cabinet. I couldn't see the spirit inside but his voice came out loud and clear. "Did you bang your head?"

I had, and although that wasn't the problem, there was no reason to tell Bob that, I reasoned. It would have made a fine excuse after all.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I don't remember much past Elaine's binding."

I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath as my voice shook a little at the mention of the girl. I even had to focus on something else for a couple of seconds to stop Dresden's renewed spikes of pain, guilt and anger from overwhelming me. Once I thought I had the situation under control, I opened my eyes again and realized Bob was practically shouting my name worriedly by that point.

"Sorry," I said quickly. "I'm alright."

"Hmmm…" the spirit of intellect said noncommittally. "You may want to have someone take a look at your head when this is over."

I mumbled something in agreement as I moved over to Elaine. Paying attention to the glass jar that had shattered dangerously close to her head, I crouched beside the girl to check on her, while finding my gaze wandering over her body for a long moment. She was completely naked as I vaguely remembered her being from my time at the deep bottom of Dresden's consciousness. She was also partially festooned in swirling paints that effectively highlighted her modest and yet incredibly appealing feminine curves. Her lips were so brightly red they looked stained with blood.

I… as Harry Potter, I had never seen that much skin all at the same time on any girl – but for a few… ehm… magazines passing around Hogwarts – but with Elaine it felt like I personally knew every inch of her body, to the point where I could have described her down to the littlest details. I kept on unintentionally conjuring images of intimate moments between her and Dresden and couldn't help but blush crimson in embarrassment. Shaking my head at my ridiculous reaction, I forced my mind away from what I had to remind myself was someone else's past and concentrated on my present, instead.

Elaine… sweet, strong Elaine… she had showed her true colours in the end and she had done that in a way that affected me on a much more personal level than it should have had any right to do. She wasn't anything other than a snake. A traitorous snake who had betrayed her lover without any reserve, hurting him so deeply I wasn't sure he would ever recover. Knowing how much he loved her and what she really meant for him, I was certain Dresden would be completely devastated for a very long time.

Despite that, hearing her breathing fine when I checked on her was such a relief that I couldn't contain a long sigh. She was alive, though unconscious. Whatever Dresden had done to her when he was in control had simply knocked her out, while the following tumble hadn't cause any more damage. I was glad about it, though probably only half as much as Dresden himself internally was.

"So…" I said, straightening up and looking for my rod. "Are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

"You don't remember anything at all?" Bob asked in mock-disappointment. "Not even calling Elaine… all those things?"

"Uh-uh," I said while rummaging around the debris. "Everything after being bound by her spell is kinda blurry."

"Damn… and I was so impressed with you," he continued sorrowfully before making a slight pause. "You were… uh… mighty angry, I'd say. But rightly so! What a bitch… I honestly didn't expect that at all from her."

I remained quiet after that as I continued looking through the chaos all around. Eventually, Bob understood I didn't want to comment on that particular topic so he got back to his résumé.

"Right. Well, you raged at her for a bit while Justin prepared a circle for her, you know, to enhance her spell a little bit. She's always been more about finesse than power, and keeping you constantly bounded was probably too tiresome to risk it."

I nodded, glancing once at the circle drawn on the concrete floor a few feet away from her. It was formed by sigils I didn't recognize, plus some I knew were about pain and fury.

"How did I free myself?" I asked, finally spotting the blasting rod half-hidden under a book right next to Elaine.

"Dunno. You must have overpowered her or something, because I actually saw her falling out of her circle," was the spirit's reply. "Nice boob-jiggling, by the way."

I shook my head at him but decided not to say anything. "What happened next?"

"You got her with an evocation of wind. Slammed her against the wall and knocked her out. Then you turned to Justin."

Blasting rod now in hand, I looked at the cabinet with a small smile. I could clearly hear the nasty, vindictive tone in Bob's voice as he described the rest of the fight.

"The sucker was probably mid-way through his spell when you got out of the binding. I think he thought he could finish in time, but he miscalculated, the idiot. The spell was some sort of mind-wrapping crap he came up with all by himself. Very dangerous, long-term magic," he explained. "I'm not surprised it caused all that ruckus once you sent it awry by disrupting the circle." He let out a bark of laughter. "I saw him flying at the wall like a fucking bouncy ball!"

I let him enjoy the moment before answering. In the meantime, I walked up to Elaine and stunned her after a second of concentration, then moved to Justin and tiredly did the same. I felt uncomfortably light-headed after doing that and decided to lay off magic for a while at least.

"Thank you, Bob," I said eventually, bringing a cool hand to my forehead and rubbing it. "I remember the rest."

The spirit continued to chuckle amusedly.

"I can't believe we finally got rid of that bastard," he then said. "And Elaine, too. Really, Harry, you're better off without either of them. I suggest you tie 'em both up to a strong line and start fishing for Wardens. Considering what Justin tried to do _and did_, they will have the pillory out and ready in a matter of seconds."

Not really following, I finally walked up to the cabinet and opened it.

"What are you talking about?" I asked in confusion.

A pair of orange lights blinked back at me from the hallow eye-sockets of a bleached human skull, as the air spirit Bob snapped its jaws closed. The thing was set in the middle shelf of the cabinet, among mysterious pieces of jewellery, a few old wands and rods and a wooden box I knew housed some rare potion ingredients. The skull was by far the creepiest object there but the spirit of air who inhabited it was virtually harmless as long as you weren't female and good looking.

"Oh, right, you don't know, of course," Bob said with a sigh as the orange cloud flickered in and out of the various gaping holes of the skull. "That asshole taking a nap over there hasn't been quite forthcoming with you, Harry. There's a lot of things you should know about."

I turned to the 'asshole' and glared at him, as I was sure Dresden would have done. If anyone hated Justin DuMorne more than the young American currently did, that 'anyone' was definitely Bob the Skull. The spirit of intellect had served him for more than thirty-five years now and hated pretty much every minute. He would often complain about him when he and Dresden were alone, although he often admitted it was still an upgrade compared to his previous owner.

I honestly couldn't imagine what that one had been like.

If Justin treated Dresden and Elaine as an abusing guard would two prisoners, then he treated Bob like the most worthless of slaves. Even worse maybe. He always punished him for the littlest of mistakes, torturing him in ways that were impossible to describe, before starting squeezing him again for whatever information he needed at the moment. Dresden had confronted the man about his behaviour towards Bob once, but the only result he had obtained had been a harsh retribution against the both of them. He had stopped trying under Bob's request.

I reached for the skull and took it out of the cabinet. Glimmering brightly in the semi-darkness, the spirit swirled from one eye-socket to the other to take a better look at the room. He whistled, quite an impressive feat considering he didn't have any lips, and chuckled once more.

"Looks like a mini-tornado has come and gone in here," he commented as I put him on the metal worktable nearby. "Hey, shouldn't you chain those two down or something?"

"They're not waking up anytime soon," I said dismissively, nodding at the unconscious wizards.

"What about He Who Walks Behind?" Bob said, visibly getting nervous just at the name. "Harry, you don't know how dangerous he is. He's immune to magic and strong as hell. Even if you raised Justin's wards back up, they'd tickle him at best."

"Don't worry about him either," I reassured him. "He's been taken care of."

The spirit somehow conveyed his scepticism in his following stare.

"How?"

"It doesn't matter now. It's done," I said maybe too quickly before going back to the earlier topic. "So. These Wardens… who are they?"

Bob made an unconvinced sound before answering as if it was obvious.

"They're enforcers of the White Council."

"Wow! No kidding? That explains _everything_!" I exclaimed mock-enthusiastically, after I had waited in vain for him to continue.

"And the White Council is," the spirit resumed at that point, orange cloud swirling up as if rolling eyes, "the only existing ruling body for wizards like you."

I made an interested noise. "Like a Ministry or something?"

"Yeah, sure, if you wish," Bob agreed in a whatever tone. "There's a lot of people with magic powers all around the world, but only the most gifted are considered actual wizards and are therefore members of the Council."

I got a weird idea from that and proceeded to pursue it.

"A lot of people, you say... Where do they all live?"

"Uh, in houses, Harry," the spirit said as if talking to a child. "They're much like you."

"No, I mean… is there a city, a village… a school, maybe?"

"Oh. Uhm, not that I'm aware of. There's the Hidden Halls of Edinburgh, in Scotland, but they're more like the Council's Headquarters than a real community," Bob explained. "Wizards live along with non-magical mortals, just like you and Justin. He's a member, by the way."

I hid my disappointment at the discovery. No Hogwarts after all, I told myself.

"Wouldn't hand him to them be a problem, then?" I asked. "All with him being a member, I mean."

"More than a member, actually. He's a Warden, as in one of the guys who is supposed to hunt down and kill warlocks like him. Kind of ironic, huh?"

"So? Will they take care of him or not?"

"Oh, not only they will, they will _love_ to," was the spirit's immediate reply. "Wardens get off on judging and more often simply executing strayed wizards. They have no qualms even when those wizards are big-time senior members. Or at least, they didn't up to thirty-six years ago."

"What happened thirty six years ago?"

"Justin got his hands on me, that's what happened. I don't know if the trend has changed since then." The orange cloud trembled a little, giving the impression of a shrug. "He never talked about Council business when in front of me and of course I never asked. He's told me to never speak about it to you, either."

I blinked. "And how come you're doing it now?"

"Because he's finished," he said before laughing gleefully. "His head will be rolling off his shoulders soon enough. He can't do anything to me anymore."

Chewing my lower lip hesitantly, I glanced at the unconscious man. "Are they really going to kill him?"

"Hell yeah!" Bob cheered. He then spied on me after a moment of silence. "He got what was coming to him, Harry. You don't know what kind of things he's done."

"I guess…" I still didn't like the idea, though, and my thoughts drifted to Azkaban. "Aren't there prisons in this wizard society?"

"Not really. There's either execution or a sort of trial period," the spirit explained. "But he's gone way too far to be assigned the latter. Summoning a demon, and an Outsider at that, is serious –and I mean SERIOUS – offence. That just can't be changed since my previous owner's times."

I let out a deep breath. "What about Elaine?"

It took Bob a moment to answer that. "She might have a chance. She never actually violated any of the Laws of Magic, at least as far as I know, but she was an accomplice anyway." He sighed. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Harry. Her situation doesn't look good, either."

I murmured noncommittally as my gaze travelled to her. Odds were that if I called in these Wardens she would probably get executed as well. What she had done was terrible, yes… but a death sentence? I didn't know how to feel about that. Was it even my decision to make? I wasn't the real victim, here. Dresden was. What would he do in this situation?

Then again, what were the alternatives? I could think of a number of them, but only running away made a little bit of sense. It was impractical, though, and arguably less desirable than even handing Justin and Elaine to the Wardens was.

No. I had no other choice.

I sat on the metal worktable beside Bob and damned this whole situation. I even felt tempted to try and let Dresden take the control back, to let him deal with it, but that was probably the cruellest thing I could have done at the moment. Taking this harsh decision in his stead was a kindness I felt I needed to grant him. I pretty much knew what he thought, anyway. Might as well save him the emotional aftermath.

Sighing tiredly, I turned to the skull.

"What's going to happen to you when they get here?" I asked.

"Nothing, because they're not gonna find me," Bob said. "You're going to hide me."

"Hide you? Why?"

"We're not going to let the Wardens get their prude, judging hands on me," Bob stated, sniffling loudly. "They'd just toss me in some dusty office with stinky old wizards consulting me as if I was a stupid library! Bah. Been there, done that."

I snorted at him. "What are you going to do, then?"

"I'm going with you, obviously. As soon as they off Justin, I'll be free to choose a proper owner. You'll come back to get me. I might even be able to teach you some proper magic for a change." He shot in and out of the skull like an overexcited pixie before actually winking at me. "As long as you continue getting me those nice, educational magazines I know you like as much as me, we'll get along just fine."

I opened my mouth to reply in kind but whatever I was going to say simply died in my throat as a loud buzzing sound droned inside the room. I jumped off the worktable and gripped the blasting rod tightly as I looked around in search of the source of the noise. Both Justin and Elaine were still unconscious on the floor and there was no one else inside the lab, though.

"Harry?" Bob called.

"What is it?" I asked. The sound seemed to echo against the walls and throughout the cluttered room. "Can you tell where it's coming from?"

"What are you talking about?" the air spirit asked me completely puzzled.

I turned to him in confusion.

"Can't you hear it?" I shouted over the noise. It was getting louder now and I was starting to panic. "What is going on?"

And then I started to feel it. A familiar sensation, like that of a portkey travel but gentler, a sudden and firm force pulling me from behind. My vision started to blur around the edges and I found it impossible to move as the loud noise reached a new, more painful crescendo. I tried to scream for help, but talking wasn't working either, no matter how hard I tried. I started to shrink away from Bob and the lab and deeper and deeper inside Dresden's body, and eventually I felt him surge forward in my place, hesitantly though without any powerful emotion to back him up. He did eventually and the whole world disappeared from my senses as I lost control over the body.

Then even the buzzing sound suddenly stopped and all that was left was silent blackness.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

When Harry Potter next opened his eyes, he immediately knew he was back in his world. Hermione's face hovering above his told him so. Despite his blurry, glassless vision, he could see she was quite distressed, her eyes red and puffy as they followed very intently the scene unfolding in front of her without ever looking down at him.

Harry mirrored her as the rest of the world gradually presented itself to his senses. The young Gryffindor realized he was lying on a stone floor, his head resting comfortably on his friend's lap, while other people discussed nearby. Fawkes was napping on his golden perch beside the fire while the numerous paintings on the wall to his left faked the same.

He was in the Headmaster's office.

"I already did everything I could think of!" Madam Pomfrey was saying heatedly in the meantime, sounding pretty much as distraught as Hermione looked. "I just don't know what's wrong with him!"

Standing on the other side of his desk, Albus Dumbledore was trying to calm her down.

"I understand," he said soothingly. "And I too am preoccupied. But unfortunately St. Mungo's isn't as safe a place as Hogwarts' Infirmary for what concerns young Harry."

"He's been there to visit Arthur a few times during the holidays, Albus," Professor McGonagall pointed out quietly, gesturing at Ron whose face and ears immediately started reddening under the attention. He nodded silently though and the witch continued. "Nothing bad happened."

"I'm afraid it would be different if he were to be hospitalized there for an extended period of time," the Headmaster explained grimly. "I have reasons to believe that Voldemort," and here everyone but Hermione either gasped or flinched, "already has a strong presence within the walls of St. Mungo's." He waited for his comment to really sink into everyone's mind before continuing. "Moreover, I suspect there is not much they can do. As your spells and potions demonstrated, Poppy, Harry is, to all appearances and diagnosis, well. His condition is not the result of some kind of illness."

The school matron looked like she wanted to reply to that, but she stayed quiet in the end. Beside her, Professor McGonagall stared intently at the Headmaster, her expression even sterner than usual. On the other side of the room, Ron was squirming self-consciously and seemed to be readying himself to speak.

Harry beat him to it.

"Is being nut a kind of illness?" he asked the room.

Hermione shrilled at the sound of his voice, starting in fright and jolting backwards enough to take her lap away from him. Harry's head lost its support and hit the floor hard.

"Harry!"

"Mister Potter!"

His wince turned into a scowl as he rubbed the soon to appear bump on the back of his head. "Ouch, Hermione."

He barely had the time to sit up before the girl had tackled him with a hug.

"Harry! Are you okay?" Ron asked worriedly, kneeling beside him and clapping him on the back.

The boy-who-lived smiled. He could hear Hermione sniffling softly on his shoulder as her wild hair tickled his nose "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I will decide _that_," Madam Pomfrey immediately piped in, approaching him and unceremoniously pushing his friends out of her way. She looked at him in distrust, in disapproval even, as if him being fine now could be some sort of trick. On the other side of the room, Professor McGonagall looked very relieved, and even Dumbledore had a small smile on his face.

Harry leaned back against the floor, resting his head and his bare feet against the warm stone. He was still wearing his Gryffindor red pyjamas, he noticed, and as the school matron started checking on him with some spells, he asked for his glasses. Taking them from Ron and putting them on his nose, he turned to his friends.

"So… what happened?"

Not so blurry anymore, Hermione looked surprised by the simple question.

"You don't… remember anything?" she asked, sharing a look with Ron before glancing quickly at Madam Pomfrey. "We thought you were… _dreaming_."

"Not exactly," the young Gryffindor replied cautiously, lowering his voice to not be overheard, at least by Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress murmuring quietly a few feet away. "And I remember _that_. I just wanted to know what happened while I was out. How did I end up here?"

"Oh," the girl said in comprehension. She bit her lower lip and let out a shuddering breath before speaking up again. "Oh, Harry! You scared us to death! Ron found you thrashing about in your bed, half-strangled by the sheets, all moaning in pain."

"It wasn't like last time," the young Weasley stepped in quickly before Hermione could go back to crying like she had evidently done sometime earlier. "You wouldn't wake up, no matter what. We tried everything short of dumping you in the shower before calling McGonagall. She cast a few things with her wand before taking you to the Infirmary."

Harry pursed his lips slightly, nodding his head. "She levitated me around Hogwarts in my pyjamas, didn't she?"

Hermione snorted despite herself while Ron had no qualms about chuckling openly.

"We stumbled into Parkinson too. It was her turn patrolling the hallways as a prefect tonight," the red-head said. "Expect at least some nasty comments from pug-face and daddy-boy."

"What about Umbridge?"

Hermione actually shrugged. "She's on her way up here, I imagine. But what does it matter, now?"

Harry thought about it for a moment before finally nodding in agreement.

"Madam Pomfrey couldn't wake you up either," Ron continued the story, smiling awkwardly at the witch still casting spells next to him. She glanced at him in warning even as she continued chanting. "She decided to take you to St. Mungo's but…"

"But Professor Dumbledore didn't want that," Harry finished for him, briefly glancing at the wizard who was back to his seat now. "I was awake by that point, thank you. And, well, he was right, I think. I wasn't sick. There was no point in taking me there."

He looked sheepishly at the school matron frowning at him before quieting down. Letting out a long breath, he carefully pondered about what had happened. In the end, him going back to his real body had had nothing to do with someone waking him up, after all. It appeared to be completely unrelated to anything happening on this 'side'. But what about something in Dresden's world? Had that buzzing sound been the cause or had it been the effect of coming back home? He couldn't be sure.

The young Gryffindor closed his eyes for a moment and tried to feel for Dresden's presence somewhere inside his mind but couldn't find any trace of it. He was probably just back in control inside his own body and currently chatting with Bob the Skull about meddling British people. Funny how it had been the American wizard the one to come out of that nasty situation in the end… and how it had been Harry the one to stuck him in it in the first place. He smiled amusedly in remembering how he had thought it was his job to help poor, helpless Dresden.

"Well, it does seem you're fine, after all, Mister Potter," Madam Pomfrey eventually commented, sounding almost grudging. She was still swishing her wand around and shaking her head at the colourful sparks and waves it produced. "Maybe now you can explain us how-"

And as a yellow light glimmered faintly in front of Harry's eyes, she abruptly stopped talking. Blinking, she repeated the last wand movement only to see the same golden glow appear. The old witch was frowning openly now even as she cast the spell once again.

"What in Merlin's…" she whispered in disbelief.

Something heavy settled on Harry's stomach at those words, an alarming foreboding sensation that gripped his gut tightly and expected the worst. He watched as her widening eyes shifted hesitantly from her wand to him and back again.

"What?" he croaked out, anxiously raising his head from the stone floor as his whole body tensed. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"This is… this is not possible…" she said incredulous, and for the first time the young Gryffindor realized what she was looking at exactly. "The scar… the scar isn't cursed anymore?"

It took him a minute to fully understand what she was talking about, and when he finally did, he found himself scrutinized by all sides. Hermione, Ron and McGonagall's faces were now hovering above his, various states of wonder clearly visible in their expressions.

"Oh my God!" Hermione then exclaimed breathlessly as she peered down at his forehead. "It's true! Your scar has faded, Harry!"

The boy-who-lived sat up as fast as if pushed by a spring, barely avoiding head-butting Ron as he did, and then used his friend's arm to stand up. He searched the room frantically with his gaze but couldn't find what he was looking for.

"I-a-a mirror! Is there a mirror here?"

Dumbledore had his wand out already and was swishing it quickly. A small mirror with a brass frame appeared in his other hand a second later and Harry practically snatched it from him. He barely glanced at his tired expression reflected on the clear surface before moving his gaze to the mark on his forehead.

Ever since Voldemort's return, the lightning-bolt shaped scar above his right eyebrow had looked a bit deeper and darker compared to the past. The change hadn't been terribly evident in his opinion, but that hadn't stopped people from noticing and starting rumours about it. Unfortunately, with how the Daily prophet was recently describing him as a nutcase and a liar, the widespread theory revolved around his need of attention and a localized use of make up. He could imagine what would happen to that rumour when people eventually saw him like he was seeing himself now. Something about him either forgetting, finishing, or giving up the foundation cream, probably, because right now the scar looked pretty much like it did when he was younger. Even fainter, probably. Harry marvelled at its clear colour as he passed his thumb over it and couldn't help but agree with Hermione.

His scar had indeed faded.

He thought about the early stages of his trip to Dresden's world and a smile immediately graced his lips. His struggle against the corridor's dream, the severing from that foreign dark ball of smoke, Lord Voldemort's scream… had that been all real, then? He just hadn't had the time to think about that considering all that happened later but… what did it all mean?

Following an intuition, the boy-who-lived looked up from the mirror and met Dumbledore's eyes, an incredibly rare event in the latest school year. The last time it had happened, the last time the man hadn't averted his gaze, his scar had burned tremendously as a terrifying spike of hatred like he had never experience before had pierced through him like a spear, directed at the wizard.

None of that took place, this time, fortunately. Harry saw himself reflected into the Headmaster's clear blue gaze and couldn't contain a shuddering breath, as the only emotion that surged inside of him was relief.

Because of that, he was caught completely by surprise when the Soulgaze started.

There was a rushing sensation, and Harry felt like being yanked brusquely forward, as if someone had grabbed him from his pyjamas and dragged him toward the wizard. It reminded him of that time Fred – or maybe George – had used a summoning charm on him, effectively propelling him out of the couch's spot he wanted to sit on. There had been a similar sensation then, but way less uncomfortable than this. Now, thanks to the new set of memories inherited from Dresden, his brain rationally knew he wasn't actually moving, not physically anyway, but that didn't make it any less real. He saw Dumbledore's startled eyes widen in surprise before being drawn inside of them.

The sensation stopped a split of a second later and Harry found himself on a soft ground, mirror no more in his hand as he stood in front of a small puddle a few feet from him. It wasn't very big but it looked positively bottomless through the clear waters it was made of. In the exact middle of it, an eerie black circle shone darkly like obsidian under the sun and he could see a nebulous image reflected inside. The water's colour was definitely the most striking feature of the puddle, so blue and limpid that it looked like a cloudless morning sky. There was something very familiar with it and as the young Gryffindor looked around, he immediately understood why.

Not many steps to his right, another puddle, identical to the first, was looking up at him with its clear blue waters, its oval shape now perfectly recognizable.

Dumbledore's eyes. The puddles were Dumbledore's eyes.

The boy-who-lived took both of them in with a look and couldn't help but shiver a little at the impression that they were staring right back at him. It felt like being observed by a huge magnificent beast that had yet to decide what to do with an intruder and was simply studying it for the time being. The irises were perfectly still, not the littlest ripple agitating their surface, in a calmness and peacefulness that touched Harry in his very core.

They were beautiful.

So it was quite startling when, a split of a second later, someone stomped into the left one.

It was a faceless man, no recognizable feature visible in his looks, like a marginal character of a hazy dream you immediately forget upon waking up, and he was wearing a pair of muddy working-boots stained with grease and slime from top to bottom. He sank calf-deep first with one and then with the other leg before stepping back out of the water with resounding, careless splashes.

The young Gryffindor could only stare in shock at the puddle left behind, as mud and slime now floated across its surface, lazily whirling while inexorably mixing with the water. Another splashing sound resonated to his right and Harry hastily turned his head around, a strangled cry escaping his lips. Sure enough, another faceless man had just walked away from the second puddle leaving behind similar results.

And then, before he could give in to the instinct of murdering whoever had marred that breathtaking beauty, another person came.

Harry actually saw her appear this time, an encounter of shadow and light solidifying into a small girl. Her features weren't any less blurry than the men's who had come previously had been, but her feet were bare, small and clean, and so pale they seemed to glow at the white light coming from above. They entered the puddle gracefully, barely rippling its surface, and when they left it, its waters were perfectly clear again, and calm, and peaceful. She disappeared like she had come, dissolving in the air as if she had never existed.

Harry was relieved when the same happened to the other eye – this time because of a man, barefoot as well, stepping in and out of the water long enough to magically clean it of any filth – but he knew that couldn't last long for countless of figures were now appearing all around.

The scene repeated itself over and over again as dozens of faceless men and women walked right through Dumbledore's eyes, staining them with mud or cleaning them from it. Some of them were passing so close they actually brushed against him, and Harry sensed them for what they really were – nothing more than shadows. He looked on silently, a mixture of concern and frustration upsetting his face as the waters lost their beautiful blue colour only to regain it a second later, the surface calming and agitating according to whoever stepped in.

He didn't know how long he stood there, his gaze into Dumbledore's ever-changing one, but when it all stopped he couldn't bring himself to avert it. He continued to stare down, a little puzzled by that abrupt end, but relieved nonetheless that the procession of men and women, and boys and girls, had ended with a pair of clean and cleaning feet. The eyes weren't nearly as blue as they had been when the Soulgaze had started but they had looked much worse at various points of the parade.

He was about to look up and about when something dropped from above, plopping into the left puddle he was staring at. It looked like a small orb, its obscure glass slightly glowing with a bluish light from within. It floated right in the middle of Dumbledore's eye for a moment, covering his black pupil perfectly before sinking to the bottom.

The boy-who-lived watched in horror as a dark substance started oozing from the sphere, spreading quickly through the water in cancerous, concentric waves of filth. It looked like ink was seeping out of the globe continuously until the whole puddle had turned black. Harry couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that even the other one now looked the same, the dark liquid somehow passing over to it.

"Please, help him."

Harry whirled around quickly, startled by the unexpected voice, only to find a young girl facing him. She was very small, both short and thin, so much so that she could have passed for a child if her not-blurry face hadn't clearly been that of a teenager. Her blue eyes were partially hidden behind curly locks of blond hair, but they shone brightly as if she had a fever. All she was wearing was a light nightgown long enough to skim the ground and she looked extremely frail as she hugged herself tightly.

"Please, take that thing out," she begged in a very soft voice. "It's hurting him."

Harry turned back to the puddle in front of him as dread settled in his stomach. There was something about the orb deposited at its bottom that felt terribly unpleasant to him, something that went beyond the filth it produced. The object was still visible despite the now cloudy waters, its bluish light glowing weakly through the translucent glass.

"I… I don't know," he said hesitantly, glancing quickly at the girl. "Can't you do it?"

So much for his Gryffindor courage, he berated himself silently but couldn't help but hope for a positive answer all the same.

The girl shook her head slowly, instead.

"Why?"

As an answer, her trembling hands left her shoulders and reached for her nightgown. She lifted it up a few inches to show the small pair of feet it had hidden until that moment.

They were completely covered in mud.

Harry swallowed nervously. They were far, far worse than any working-boots he had seen during the Soulgaze. He looked at them and then at his own bare, clean feet.

"Oh," he said in understanding.

"I can't let him look at me," the girl whispered shakily. "It would only make it worse." She let go of the nightgown and patted it down awkwardly. "My time is long past. It's your turn to clean him now."

The boy-who-lived bit his lower lip and said nothing, his gaze travelling back to Dumbledore's eye and the glowing orb at its centre. Why was he so afraid of it anyway?

He walked up to the puddle and crouched next to it. Despite the murky waters, his face was reflected perfectly as he leaned over the surface, but the expression he was sporting wasn't his own. He understood that when he frowned at it and noticed how the image didn't actually mirror the change. It remained stuck in a surprised and stunned look, instead, and Harry realized it was actually his physical body's, still out into the real world.

The young Gryffindor glanced back at the girl and sighed. It was useless to delay it. There was a reason why the Soulgaze had manifested itself like that. The glowing orb was important. Getting it out of there was important. Might as well do it immediately.

He straightened up from his crouch and took a deep calming breath.

Then, very slowly, he put one foot inside Dumbledore's left eye.

The water didn't feel as bad as it looked. Far from it. The puddle was cooler than he had expected and not at all slimy. It whirled through his toes and around his calf pleasantly, actually, and he found himself enjoying the sensation for a long second, half-surprised and half-relieved that nothing bad had happened. Then he immersed his other foot in it, and a couple of short steps later, he was finally looking down at the glowing orb.

Picking the thing up took him much more time than he had thought it would. He stood there for ages, frozen on his spot with his eyes rooted to the mysterious sphere, feeling as much terrified as he was resolute. Something was screaming at him to run away and it was a tremendous effort not to give in. He was disgusted by the simple thought of taking something so _foul_in his hands, but, as he pondered on the situation, he realized he didn't want to leave it there either. The black liquid was still oozing out of it in waves and he couldn't bear to just let it continue corrupting those waters, not when all he had to do to stop it was reaching out with his hand.

How hard could it be?

Trying to ignore the sickening feeling assaulting his senses, he bended over, dipped his right hand into the water and reached for the translucent sphere.

The thing was warm and... his. He felt it as soon as his fingers wrapped around it, a strong sensation of belonging from the orb to him immediately replacing the nausea. He raised it out of the water and stared at it in wonder, gingerly turning it around as it stopped oozing its black liquid. It was pretty much the size of a Snitch although a fair bit heavier and incredibly smooth under his wet fingers. It seemed to be made of spun glass or a similar material and what he had originally thought was a bluish glow in reality was a swirling mist agitating underneath.

It was actually kind of pretty.

"Do you think you're ready?"

Harry turned to the small girl a few feet away. He had forgotten she was there.

"Ready for what?" he asked.

She smiled sadly at him and rubbed her body hard as if she was cold.

"Look closer," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the orb in his hands.

After a moment of hesitation, Harry did as he was told, and much to his surprise, as he stared intently at the glowing sphere, an image started appearing from the bluish mist inside. A couple of seconds later, the boy-who-lived had to correct himself. It wasn't an image.

Just words.

His name, _Harry Potter_, came up first, drifting alone underneath the spun glass before being joined by another one, _Lord Voldemort_. He barely had the time to wonder what was happening when both names fell back into the swirling mist and were at once replaced by a much longer inscription.

_'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...'_

Harry read the words quickly and then read them again. And again. And again. When they finally started to make sense, he desperately wished they didn't.

_Just words_.

The orb slipped from his fingers in slow motion like in movies, plopping back into the water after an eternity. The young Gryffindor idly noticed how it immediately went back to release its black liquid but he honestly couldn't care less. He couldn't see the inscription anymore but its words were like branded in his mind, and they burned, and cut, and laughed at him in amused, unforgettable cruelty.

He didn't know how long he stood there, his eyes staring vacantly at the pool of blackness that Dumbledore's eye had become, and it was only the girl's voice that eventually woke him up from his trance of sorts.

"Whether to clean him or not… it's your decision to make," she all but whispered as he looked up. "But know this – only you can help him now."

Something behind his eyes started stinging as he shook his head quickly. Was it some kind of joke? He struggled to find his voice and when it eventually came out, it sounded nothing like his.

"How can I?" he hissed in anger and desperation.

But there was no time to say anything else for the moving sensation came back with a vengeance and immediately started dragging him away. The Soulgaze was ending and Harry could only squeeze his eyes shut as he was hurled back into the outer world. The girl's voice reached him for the last time, seemingly from very far away over the rushing sound in his ears.

"Forgive him," he heard her say as an answer to his rhetorical question. "I did."

And then it was over.

The boy-who-lived was returned to the world as suddenly as he had been taken away from it. The water that until a second before had surrounded his feet was now gone, replaced by the cool air of the Headmaster's office and the warm stone of the floor. The brass frame of the mirror was rough under his fingers, its sharp engravings cutting painfully his palm as he gripped it tightly against his side. Voices resonated in his ears, either calling his name or Dumbledore's, while a heavy weight in his forehead pressed against his skin and beyond. The sensation forced him to blink his eyes back open, recognizing it for what it really was a second too late.

With the Sight activated for the first time in his life, Harry Potter laid eyes on the world.

The first thing he saw was the true image of Albus Dumbledore standing right in front of him. The old wizard would have looked perfectly normal if not for his eyes. His clear blue gaze was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by the same eerie stare of the end of the Soulgaze, the blackness of the irises perfectly matching that of the pupils. Rivulets of blood were running out of those dark eyes continuously, rolling down his stunned, pained face before dripping to the floor. A book in one hand and a battleaxe in the other, he took a precarious step back before stumbling into a chair and plopping down.

That simple action effectively cleared the view of the wall behind him and Harry's eyes were inevitably drawn towards it. Unravelling the enchantments the Headmasters' portraits were made of, the Sight pierced through their colourful lights and reached Hogwarts itself.

Everything perceived with the Sight stays with you forever, but Harry felt like that applied doubly so to the castle. Awed and terrified at the same time, the young Gryffindor saw inside ancient stone and magic, inextricably entwined together like two fluid snakes coiling around each other. He saw spells shaping rocks into dreams and rocks grounding spells to time, until one became the other and vice versa and none could exist alone.

Then he saw all that change into something else, something incredible and beautiful that brought tears to his eyes. Everything started evolving at the rhythm of a million hearts beating as one, bonds forming in the shape of arms and legs, bellies and breasts. A Mother was born into the clamour of cries and laughter, to lull herself and her children to peace.

Finally, Harry saw beyond that as well, and this time, it was too much.

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, the boy-who-lived dropped to the ground unconscious.

* * *

Author's notes - A thank you to Jon/Surarrin and the DLP community for nice feedback and insight.

Uncle Stojil


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

Harry Potter grimaced slightly as he woke up from what had probably been the most troubled sleep of his life, and that was saying something considering his impressive track record. Countless of wet-dreams and night-terrors had haunted and blessed his night over and over again, occasionally stepping over each other's boundaries in even more chilling and morbidly alluring results. He still remembered clearly the frightening red-eyed beast and the lustful and luscious mermaid fusing into one being and chasing after him. It was a mystery how he hadn't woken up and fled his bed time and time again, or at least, if he had he had no recollection of doing so.

The smell of his own sweat assaulted his nose when he nuzzled the pillow, intense enough to completely shake the sleepiness off his brain and restart his thinking process. He decided to keep his eyes closed and lay there some more as he rolled on his back and took a breath of fresh air.

He was in a bed of Hogwarts' Infirmary, he realized quickly, thinking about how sad it was that he had enough past experiences to actually recognize it just by lying in it. Lowering the sheets down his chest, he busied himself with trying to figure out which one it was by the direction of the sunlight shining beyond his eyelids, but that turned out to be pretty difficult considering he didn't even know what time of the day it was. Distant voices and chirping birds resonated in his ears, and he idly listened to them as the recent stunning events started coming back to him.

The Soulgaze with Dumbledore came first, as sharp and defined as if it was unfolding once again in his mind. Then came the Sight – capital S – of the old wizard and of Hogwarts, and Harry realized that it had probably been all that use of his Third Eye that had caused such a dreamful night of sleep.

He couldn't believe the stupid mistakes he had made. Controlling the Sight had been one of the first things Dresden had learned to do – as deactivating it was simply imperative to avoid going insane – and freaking out until he fainted wasn't exactly a practical method to do that. He knew better than that. Well… Dresden did, at least, but seeing as his memories were somehow still inside of him, he actually had no excuses.

He tried to think about the American wizard and his world for as long as he could, and then forced himself to focus on Hogwarts and Umbridge, but there was no helping it. A glowing inscription continued popping up in his brain and no matter what he did, he just couldn't seem to be able to send it away.

Those… _words_ didn't leave him alone.

Many minutes passed before he found the strength to actually open his eyes and look around Hogwarts' Infirmary. He was in the bed by the window, he noticed, the farthest from the double doors leading outside, in the row facing Madam Pomfrey's office. Strangely enough, the curtains around him hadn't been drawn shut at all, consequently letting him see everything from corner to corner. The other beds were all empty but it took his gummed and glassless eyes a couple of seconds to notice Albus Dumbledore standing by the window.

The old wizard hadn't changed clothes since the day before and his turquoise robe glowed painfully bright in the morning sunlight. He was looking outside contemplatively, half-turned towards him while keeping his hands behind his back. Harry could have sworn he had seen a flash of black inside the man's gaze for a moment.

He averted his eyes quickly, struggling to move the upsetting image to the back of his head, but knowing nevertheless that it wouldn't ever fade from his memory. When he looked up once again, Dumbledore was staring back at him, clear blue eyes once again in their rightful place.

"Good morning, my boy," he said with a smile. It slowly dropped off his face, though, at the look on Harry's. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," the young Gryffindor said quietly. He reached over the nightstand and took his wand and glasses. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight o' clock, I believe," the Headmaster said with a quick look outside. "I expect your friends to visit soon, certainly before the beginning of lessons. They put up quite a struggle to stay at your bedside for the night. They always do."

The boy-who-lived sat up with his back against the headboard. "I'm actually surprised they're not here."

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Yes, you have very loyal friends, Harry. Madame Pomfrey and I had to make a lot of assurances about your health to persuade them to go back to their dorms. Although this time we knew you were just sleeping, so we must have been more convincing than usual for they let themselves be led back to their dormitory." His smile turned amused. "Madame Umbridge, on the other hand, did not give up quite that easily."

The young Gryffindor nodded slowly. "Did _you_ spend the night here, Professor?"

The old wizard almost seemed to sense something behind the question, for he took his time answering it.

"I did."

Harry looked at him hard then. "I bet you're _dying_ to have some answers."

Another long silence followed before Dumbledore pulled his wand out of a pocket and swished it to produce a nice chair.

"I admit I am quite interested in some of them, yes," he said, sitting. He moved his wand elaborately once again but nothing appeared this time, and as Harry looked around a bit, he couldn't see any change. The man smiled kindly at him. "Privacy charm. I have the feeling we would want to keep this conversation to ourselves."

The young Gryffindor didn't comment, though he agreed for many reasons. He didn't want people to know about what had happened to him... even less about what he had discovered. He already had enough problems as it was. He waited silently as his Headmaster put the wand away, but when he realized the man wouldn't meet his eyes, he decided to speak up.

"You can look, you know," he said sourly. "What happened yesterday isn't going to happen again."

At those words, Dumbledore shifted his gaze from an imprecise spot on Harry's face to finally look him in the eyes. Maybe it was just an impression, but the boy-who-lived thought some tension had left his Headmaster's shoulders when he did.

"And what _exactly _happened yesterday?" the old wizard asked, sounding fascinated.

The young Gryffindor bit his lip and shook his head repeatedly. He answered between clenched teeth.

"I'm so tempted not to tell you anything about it, sir, maybe with an excuse like 'when you're older and ready', more or less the one you used with me." A mirthless chuckle escaped his lips at the blank look on the man's face. "I remember our little _chat_ after Quirrell tried to take the Stone, when I asked you why Voldemort had come after me when I was a baby. And I remember a few other conversations too. I can't believe you always kept quiet about that… _thing_." He spat the last word as if it was poisonous. "I don't even know how to call it! Prophecy, is it?"

Albus Dumbledore froze into a marble statue at the simple mention of the word. His eyes widened in alarm and his body tensed again. He clearly wasn't expecting anything like that to come up.

"I beg your pardon?" he said almost as if to take time and Harry nearly snarled at that.

"Yeah, you and that nosy little girl both!" He kicked the sheet aside furiously and jumped out of the bed, practically getting into his Headmaster's face. "Stop lying to me! You weren't the only one getting an intimate soul-peek yesterday! And guess what I found out among other things? That you were hiding that bloody death-sentence from me!"

If Harry hadn't been so pissed, he would have probably found fascinating how quickly and frequently Dumbledore's features changed throughout his rant. He had seen more expressions passing through the man's face than he had in the five years he had known him. A sad look had won the battle in the end over a pained grimace.

"I never wanted to lie to you," the man said very softly. "I tried to tell you many, many times in the recent past."

"Then why didn't you?" the young Gryffindor shouted, beyond pissed now. "Do you know what it means for me to find it out like I did? Those… _words_… they're going to haunt me forever! I will never get rid of them until Voldemort finally gets his hands on me and sends a fucking killing curse up my ass!"

"That is _not_ going to happen," the old wizard said resolutely, standing up from his conjured chair.

"Yeah, because I have a power he doesn't have, right?" Harry snorted, shaking his head. "Perhaps I should Soulgaze him to death!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled interestedly at the word but a look on Harry's part made him desist from asking.

"You may not think you can do it," he said instead, "and yet, you stood up to him three times in the past already. Four if you count that fateful day of fourteen years ago. You have succeeded where no one else has, defying him and even defeating him more times than anyone ever did."

Harry stormed to the window in exasperation in front of that familiar argument.

"Can't you people understand it has always been just ridiculous luck? I've never known what was going on or even what I was doing." He promptly turned around after saying that, glaring at the man. "Which brings us back to the original topic. Because we're not talking about how Voldemort will murder me, here, but about how you kept shut about it!"

"I am very sorry, Harry," Dumbledore started but the simple sentence angered him more than he could have thought possible.

"I DON'T NEED YOUR APOLOGIES!"

It all happened very fast. As Harry's face turned from furious to stunned, magic, the kind from Dresden's world, came out of him like an uncontrolled tide, soaking the air around him and yet crackling like the flames of a fire. It washed over Dumbledore like a physical pressure, forcing him to take a step backward before he could pull out his wand and summon some kind of shield as protection. After toppling the conjured chair and pushing the bed a couple of feet away, the unrestrained energy reached the window and blasted it open with a loud clang.

As soon as the young Gryffindor had understood what was going on, he tried to press down the panic rising inside of him and to focus on withdrawing his magic. He managed to do it a second later and the energy rushed back to him as if sucked in by a magnetic force. He stumbled to the ground at the invasive force and concentrated on just keeping his bearings.

"What the hell?" he chocked out.

He hadn't intended to do anything like that… he hadn't even known he could have! Not here! Panting fearfully, he squeezed his eyes shut while pressing his hands against the cold floor of stone.

"Harry, what is going on?"

A hand came to rest on his right shoulder and it took the boy-who-lived an enormous effort to slip away from it. Slowly, he got back to his feet and scowled at Dumbledore's concerned expression. He didn't want it – he didn't _need _it, now.

Heat was rising up from his body, as it trembled in anger and tensed like a violin string. He felt his nails dig painfully into the flesh of his own palms with the impression that if he actually let go and opened his fist, what little control he had regained over his magic would slip between his fingers. Something constricting appeared in his throat, struggling against his voice as if to force it down. And yet, it seemed that now that the lid covering his anger had been removed, there was no way to stop the flood.

"How long have you known this prophecy? How long have you lied to me? How many _times_ did we talk about my freaking scar, about Voldemort, or my parents and you never said anything? Did you even _want_ to tell me?" Tears of anger and frustration started forming in his eyes as flashes of glowing orbs and burning words swarmed his vision. "I guess you didn't. Maybe that's why you didn't teach me Occlumency yourself and let Severus friggin' Snape rape my brain! You were scared I could have read your mind like it happened with him! Maybe your _grand plan_ was to close me off completely like you did this summer, when I was _dying _to know what the hell was going on and who Voldemort was murdering!"

"Believe me when I say I always meant to reveal the truth to you," Dumbledore replied readily, almost eagerly in front of those accusations. "All the mistakes I made, it was because I cared too much."

Harry's mouth hung open for a second before he actually spoke up.

"You… _cared_?" he repeated harshly, trying to make sense of the word.

"Yes," the old wizard said solemnly. "It is a feeble defence, I am aware of that, but sadly it is the only one I have. I cared more for your happiness than you knowing the truth, especially after the hard decisions I had to make concerning you. I knew I had been the cause, even if not a direct one, of your suffering with the Dursleys, and I saw you endure even more since coming to Hogwarts. How could I…" He hesitated as his voice shook dangerously. "How could I have laid such a burden on you, atop everything else?"

The boy-who-lived couldn't do anything but stare as Albus Dumbledore, unarguably the greatest wizard alive, took a deep shuddering breath and tried to recompose himself. His anger spiked once more before quickly deflating like a pierced balloon in front of that unexpected display of weakness. The lump in his throat dissolved as did the dangerous energy gathered in the pit of his stomach, and he stumbled to his bed and plopped down tiredly, taking his face in his hands and rubbing it harshly.

He wanted to stay mad, to rage more, to scream and cry at the unfairness of it all, but what was the use? He felt exhausted, void, robbed of any will or energy, and the desire to smash things, hit people or just do something destructive now sounded meaningless in his own head.

He chanced a look at his Headmaster and saw that he had gone back to the conjured chair, looking terribly weary himself. Harry knew he was true. The Soulgaze they had shared, as allegorical as it had been, made an awful lot of sense in this new light. At least for what concerned that prophecy, all Dumbledore had done had been protecting him from the hard truth to his own detriment.

Harry Potter let out a long sigh.

What did they say about good intentions?

"I could have done… a lot of things if you had told me… sir," the young Gryffindor said eventually. "Maybe trained in magic like an obsessed or… I don't know, given up education to enjoy other, more pleasant things. I could have hidden under a rock or killed myself, opened a bar in Casablanca or… just about anything. That choice was important and it was _mine_ to make."

"I understand," the old wizard said, and after a moment of hesitation added, "I feel like apologizing again but I am wary about your possible reaction."

The boy-who-lived didn't even bother to smile as he leaned back against the pillow, ignoring the powerful smell and staring at the ceiling.

"I'm over shouting and conjuring waves of magic, if that's what you want to know," he replied honestly. "I just jumped into the 'feeling miserable' phase."

Dumbledore sighed tiredly. "I am sorry for the part I played in it."

Harry was the first to interrupt the long silence that followed.

"There's no escaping it, isn't it?" he said in a very small voice. "Divination is a joke, but that prophecy Professor Trelawney made about Wormtail was the real deal. Is this one…"

He let the question float there unfinished but the Headmaster of Hogwarts understood.

"I'm afraid it is, ah, the real deal as well," the old wizard said. "If you recall the conversation we had in your third year when you told me about Sybill's words, I mentioned it was the second real prediction she had made and-"

"And now I know what the first one was." The young Gryffindor nodded, scratching his lightning-bolt scar nervously. "This is a nightmare. This is insane."

Another silence descended through the Infirmary, only the background noises of birds and kids occasionally interrupting it.

"I really need a shower," Harry said after a while, but he couldn't seem to muster the strength necessary to move.

"I really need some answers," was Dumbledore's quip and this time the boy-who-lived couldn't quite contain the smile. It turned vindictive as he finally stood up and made his way to the Infirmary doors, leaving a surprised Headmaster behind.

"I just bet you do, sir," he said without even turning, brisk pace directed to the Gryffindor tower.

* * *

"Alternate dimensions…" Harry repeated the words slowly as if trying to make more sense of them just by uttering them. He failed, of course. "That sounds like something out of science fiction. What does that even mean?"

He was in Dumbledore's office and the Headmaster was sitting behind his desk with a meditative look on his face. After a shower, some breakfast and a quick visit to the Room of Requirement, the boy-who-lived had finally joined the old wizard for the much sought-after explanation he owed him. He still wasn't sure he _had_ actually owed him one, but he couldn't see how it would have hurt.

So he had crushed the petty desire to make Dumbledore pay for the secrets he had kept, and went for what was the practical and most advantageous choice for him.

Spilling out everything.

"Different realities," the old wizard offered after a moment of thought. "Parallel planes of existence, countless copies of the universe, every one different from the other. There are many theories about the subject."

"What do they say?" Harry asked curiously. The only knowledge he had about it came from some movies and books Dresden enjoyed occasionally.

"Unfortunately, they are mostly the result of conjectures and speculation," the Headmaster explained. "Some of them revolve around the chaos theory of muggles, others around the Old Magic that Merlin was said to have uncovered in the last few years of his life. But there is nothing really concrete about either of them, as far as I know."

The young Gryffindor frowned slightly as the portraits around them grumbled their agreement.

"Aren't there precedents of some sort recorded somewhere?" he asked quietly. "I mean… I can't _possibly_ be the first to do something like this, right?"

There was an aftertaste of desperation tingeing his annoyance that didn't go unnoticed in the room. He tried to ignore the portraits' sympathetic looks and waited for an answer.

"I honestly do not know, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "I can only promise you I will try to find out."

"Are we even sure it was another world?" the boy-who-lived asked more urgently, going against what had been his conviction since before returning to Hogwarts. "I could have been wrong all this time. Maybe there's a Harry Dresden somewhere in San Antonio, _right here_, in this world's Texas!"

The Headmaster pondered that for a moment.

"I can't say it is impossible but…" he started. "From what you told me, it would be extremely improbable. It would mean that two different kinds of wizards live side by side in this dimension without knowing of one another." He frowned thoughtfully before shaking his head. "I do not want to sound arrogant, but I am quite certain I would know if in this world there was a kind of magic like the one I sensed in the Infirmary from you. Or the one you subjected me to when we locked gazes. And if not me, then Merlin or some other great wizard of the past would have. The Wizarding world has existed for thousands of years after all, and, correct me if I am wrong, so do the wizards like Mr. Dresden."

"I don't know about thousands of years, but they've probably been around for a while," Harry said, thinking back about what Bob had told him. He sighed in resignation. "Who am I kidding? Of course it was a different world. It _felt _like a different world, for Christ's sake! It's just that… it was so much like ours! Muggle history, for example, is so similar in so many things, at least from what I can remember from my old school. How is that even possible?"

Dumbledore smiled a little under his grey beard. "One thing upon which every theory on alternate dimensions seems to agree is the number of worlds that exist, one place or another." He leaned more comfortably on his armchair and steepled his fingers on the desk. "Infinite worlds, Harry. Surely if we think about it in this light, the question 'how is it possible?' loses any semblance of meaning. We cannot quantify – we cannot even _imagine _how many they are."

Harry tried to, anyway. What if a world existed where everything was exactly the same as in theirs but for a few exceptions like… like a change of name or... or gender, or whatever. That didn't seem so unlikely. And if that was not so unlikely and the possibilities were infinite, then why couldn't it be possible for a world such as Dresden's to exist and not correspond to his own?

Of course it could, and what's more, it made much more sense than the alternative.

"Alright," he admitted in defeat, "but how did I get there, then?"

Albus Dumbledore smiled amusedly. "I have no idea. I have never heard about anything even remotely similar, though be sure I will research this topic thoroughly, starting today. The fact you didn't just appear in Mr. Dresden's world as you are but possessed his body instead seems to imply that there is some kind of connection between you two, one strong enough to overcome the barriers between our dimensions."

"Could it happen again?" the boy wanted to know.

"That is a concern I cannot shake out of my head." The Headmaster's brow furrowed, one hand rising up to his beard and rubbing it pensively. "You told me that Mr. Dresden had just received an enhancement of power from his Faerie Godmother when you found yourself there. Meanwhile, Lord Voldemort had used mind magic on you, and you had just fought it back to the point of severing the connection you shared through your scar. Maybe that is the key…"

Harry couldn't help but smile at Dumbledore's relieved voice when he said that. He couldn't forget how pleased the Headmaster had been when he had told him about the dark ball of smoke he had managed to destroy before crossing over.

"As in… now that I'm not linked to Voldemort anymore, my… _other_… connection has…uhm… opened up?" he asked for clarification. "Is that what you're saying, sir?"

"It is a possibility," the old wizard mused quietly. "The triggering event is, of course, magic, but I am not sure about the necessary conditions that have allowed the dimensional travel to happen. Mind magic is a very powerful force and am I wrong in assuming the Faerie's is as well?"

The boy-who-lived shook his head quickly.

"No, no, you're right. Lea is…" and here he searched for a more appropriate word before settling for the first one that had come to his mind, "scary. Lea is scary. And the bargain Dresden made with her…"

"Right," the Headmaster said after making sure his student wouldn't finish the sentence. "Then powerful magic must probably come into play on both worlds at the same time to cause it."

Harry mumbled noncommittally before speaking up.

"You said at the same time, sir, but that doesn't sound right," he pointed out. "I told you it was evening there in America, and it was only a couple of hours later here. That's just not possible, right?"

"Do you know what the date there was?" the Headmaster asked curiously.

"It was…" Harry blinked his eyes, puzzled. "It wasn't February. It wasn't even the 1996! What does that mean?"

Albus Dumbledore nodded as if he had actually expected that.

"Theory about alternate dimensions strongly emphasizes the concept of time not as a homogeneous unit ruling over every universe in the same way, but as a fragmented entity acting independently from world to world, with different power and speed. A day in one reality could end _at the same time_, if you will, as a whole year does in another plane of existence."

The old wizard paused for a moment, thinking about an easier way to explain it, but stopped completely when it appeared there was no need. The young Gryffindor in front of him was nodding his head in understanding.

"Dresden is sixteen years old, while I'm just fifteen," he started quietly, "but he's technically younger than me, having been born…"

The boy froze, mouth hanging open. He tried to move it a second later, but no sound came out of it. What he had just realized had hit him like a Petrificus Totalus, but had nothing to do with magic.

"Harry?"

Professor Dumbledore's voice seemed to reach him from very far away, but it slowly started to shake that spell of sorts off him.

"Hell's bells…" he whispered eventually for the first time with his own voice, and he just knew that it wouldn't be the last. He looked up at the old wizard watching him with some concern and spoke up despite the terribly dry mouth. "Dresden was born on the 31st of October, 1981."

Dumbledore's face looked deliberately expressionless at that revelation. "I admit that could mean something important, other than ascertaining with finality the difference between our timelines."

Harry just shook his head, unable to speak. What did it mean? It couldn't simply be a coincidence, but he'd be damned if he could understand what it implied!

"Maybe it is part of the connection you share," the Headmaster continued. "It certainly corroborates my idea of some kind of powerful magic being involved. At least in our world it was. What can you tell me about that same day but in Mr. Dresden's reality, instead?"

The boy-who-lived quickly recomposed himself and answered. "Not much. His mother died giving birth to him and he was taken by his father. He was Muggle, she was the wizard of the two – they don't really use the term 'witch' there." He considered it for one more second before shrugging. "That's it. Dresden himself doesn't know much about it, seeing as his father died when he was six and he doesn't have any other relatives." He gulped. "Lea excluded."

"I understand," Dumbledore said sadly. "Well, in the absence of any additional information there just aren't enough bases of speculation. This bizarre event could be a one-time incident or a long series of unfortunate episodes, I'm afraid. Until further study, there is not much else I can say."

"So… I just have to avoid powerful magic until you know more?" Harry asked a bit baffled.

"That would be a good place to start, yes." The old wizard's smile widened visibly in seeing his student's unhappy expression. "My dear boy, if what I guessed is indeed true, then powerful magic the kind I am talking about is not as common as you seem to think. There should be a very low chance of something like this happening contemporaneously in Mr. Dresden's world and in ours."

"What if it does?" the young Gryffindor protested sourly. "What if it does and, instead of taking me there, it brings him here?"

"Nothing points in that direction, Harry," the Headmaster of Hogwarts said gently. "On the contrary, the fact that you brought Mr. Dresden's magic with you when you came back seems to imply that it is you that have the power in this equation."

The boy-who-lived frowned slightly at those words. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying that since you have taken his power, you-"

"What?" Harry blurted out in a high-pitched voice, immediately silencing him. "You think I _stole_his magic?"

Dumbledore looked taken aback by his student's reaction. "I would not use such a term but-"

"No! No! Of course I didn't steal his magic!"

The young Gryffindor jumped out of his chair and took a few steps away, shuddering madly as he thought about what the old wizard was implying. The portraits on the wall had all quieted down when he had raised his voice and they were all looking at him half-warily and half-disapprovingly. Harry didn't care at the moment, too busy freaking out.

Stealing Dresden's magic… he felt sick just at the idea. He knew what magic was for the American teenager, and it wasn't even remotely comparable to what the wizards of Hogwarts thought of theirs, not even the most fanatic of the purebloods. Dresden's magic was a part of him like an arm or a leg but infinitely more vital to his very survival. Taking such a thing from him would mean much more than just crippling him. It would mean mauling his soul, tearing a chunk of it away with such deep repercussions that could make the prospect of death by torture sound like a wet-dream. It would mean a loss of identity, of purpose, of shape… of life.

"I didn't…" He took a deep breath and tried to calm down before turning to his Professor. "I didn't steal his magic, sir. The energy I felt there and the one I feel here are very different. In this world it's entirely and completely mine, no doubt about it."

"I believe you, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly after a second of heavy silence. "I apologize for speaking under a false assumption. The fact that it feels so foreign to me led me to an erroneous supposition, I'm afraid."

"And I'm sorry for reacting like I did," the boy-who-lived was quick to reply. "It's just that… what you suggested was… _wrong_." And he stressed the word so much it acquired more than one meaning. "This magic is absolutely mine. I think the crossing to Dresden's world only… shook it loose or something. That's why, for example, I completely lost control of it in the Infirmary, or here in your office before that, after our Soulgaze had ended." He walked back to his seat and plopped down tensely. "Both of them were mistakes only an inexpert beginner would make. My new magic is… well, new. It still lacks the fine-tuning of a trained practitioner."

The old wizard nodded as if conceding a point.

"I understand," he said. "Is it the same for Mr. Dresden? Has your arrival in his world caused the _activation_, if you will, of our own kind of magic in his being?"

"You mean… the, uhm… Hogwarts magic?"

The Headmaster smiled amusedly. "Yes. Has Mr. Dresden come into possession of Hogwarts magic?"

"I…" Harry started but paused an instant later, uncertain. "I don't know, sir. This whole feeling-magic-thing is new to me. I couldn't do it before travelling to his dimension and activating these powers. Wizards in Dresden's world can extend their senses to perceive magical forces or lingering energies, some better than others. Justin could feel Dresden's presence from a couple of blocks away if he concentrated. He could sense a storm hours before it came."

"And you are capable of it too, now?" Dumbledore asked, sounding impressed.

"Yes, to a degree. I can feel my new magic clearly," the young Gryffindor explained. "But sensing the one of this world, even my own, is harder for some reason."

"The ability is probably more attuned to its own kind, I would imagine, making it easier to detect," the Headmaster mused quietly. "It sounds not very dissimilar from what some experienced wizards of our dimension can do. But that is more a rare inborn talent trained after years of practice, it isn't as common as it appears to be in Mr. Dresden's dimension. Only a handful of wizards can use it here."

"You can," Harry said immediately, thinking about how the Headmaster had seen or more probably sensed him back in his first year despite the invisibility cloak.

"Yes, I am quite gifted with it," the old wizard said with a small smile. "Maybe I could help you develop this '_sense_' of yours if it has some affinity to the Magi Perceptio. We could at least discuss it, if you would like to."

The boy-who-lived nodded, but was still thinking about the man's original question.

"I think he does, though" he said after a moment of silence. "Dresden. I think he's got some… err, Hogwarts' magic too. I mean, I didn't sense it or anything –frankly, I was too busy saving my skin to even try – but it would explain why I could cast spells non-verbally there while I can't here. I think… I think I was using both of our magic… our _Hogwarts'_ magic combined."

His brain started piecing together the information he had gathered both before and after the return to his world. He couldn't even remember standing up but he was currently pacing through the Headmaster's office, going from Fawkes' perch to the Pensieve cabinet with quick strides.

"I tested a few things earlier, before coming here after breakfast. I went to a… to an unused classroom and tried a few Dresden's spells," he said, deciding to leave the Room of Requirement out of the discussion for the moment. "I was a bit rattled after losing control like that in the Infirmary and… well, I was curious to see what I could do. I was a bit disappointed when my evocations came out much weaker than what I had managed during my fight against He Who Walks Behind, but I thought it was because I didn't have access to Lea's power boost from here. But now..."

"Now you think that when you were sharing the same body, your magic, both of them actually, had united," Dumbledore finished for him. He massaged his beard thoughtfully. "It is a fascinating theory. But couldn't it be that this world's wands are simply not as suitable in channelling such a different kind of energy as the blasting rods you were telling me about, thus resulting in a decrease of power?"

But Harry had started shaking his head since before the old wizard could finish his question.

"No, my wand didn't work at all when I tried to use it for a fire evocation," he explained. "I had to call up flames with no magical focus at all, and the same went for wind and kinetic force. But even considering that, none of those spells could compare to the wandless magic – or rodless, I presume –I had used in Dresden's dimension."

The old wizard smiled in seeing the disappointment on his pupil's face.

"Performing a spell without a wand is terribly useful, Harry, and also an incredibly advanced form of magic in our world."

"It's fairly normal in theirs, though," the boy-who-lived pointed out.

"Still, it is telling that our magical tools of choice are not able to channel their energy while theirs can easily wield ours," the Headmaster of Hogwarts resumed. "I would be very interested in inspecting one of these blasting rods of yours."

"You will, sir," the young Gryffindor promised. "I intend to make one as soon as I can. Now that I found the power Voldemort knows not, it would be pretty stupid to not control it as best as possible."

Whatever Harry had expected from Dumbledore after those words, it wasn't for the man to frown in thought, almost pouting behind his steepled hands.

"What?" the dark-haired boy asked curiously.

The old wizard made to answer but then closed his mouth quickly.

"Nothing."

Harry looked at him suspiciously but let the matter drop.

They discussed some more about Harry Dresden and his dimension, the strange magic that belonged to that world, as well as the events that had taken place there. Despite not having any doubts anymore, they decided to check the city of San Antonio, anyway, to see how much of it was different than in Dresden's dimension.

"We shall go tomorrow," the Headmaster suggested cheerily. "America is just a blink of an eye away for an accomplished wizard, after all."

That drew a small cheeky smile from the boy-who-lived as well. "I could use a little break from school. I only missed the History of Magic class for this little chat, but there are Double Potions _and_ Double Defence tomorrow."

He made a slightly disgusted face, but Dumbledore immediately lost his smile.

"When Madame Pomfrey ran her diagnostic charms on you last night," the old wizard said very quietly, "we discovered the marks on your hand."

Harry couldn't help but wince slightly as he lowered his eyes to the blood quill-born scar. He instinctively covered it with his other hand but stayed quiet. He didn't want to talk about it. He knew it was stupid and immature, but his detentions with Umbridge were something between the two of them. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of hearing that he had complained about it with a Professor.

So he set himself not to say anything and tried to assume the expression Dresden always used when in front of the disapproving Justin, but he was a bit surprised in seeing a small smile appear on the Headmaster's face.

"James Potter used to react like this to the abuse he sometimes received from teachers and students alike," he said kindly. "But while you simply seem to endure it, he retaliated in kind, instead. Oh, do not misunderstand me – he started worse things too, occasionally. But what I mean is that, just like you, he refused to ask a teacher for help or guidance."

The young Gryffindor kept his mouth shut and Dumbledore's smile grew an inch.

"I guess I will just have to do what I always did back then," he continued amusedly. "I think Madame Umbridge's stock of blood quills will mysteriously disappear some time in the foreseeable future. They are not illegal, unfortunately, but they are far from easy to find." His smile widened some more. "Or afford."

Harry didn't trust himself to say anything, but an identical grin was now playing on his lips.

"Professor?" he called hesitantly a few seconds later. "What about the Occlumency lessons with Snape?"

"Professor Snape, Harry," the Headmaster corrected reprimandingly. "What about them?"

The dark-haired boy frowned in distaste. "Do… do I have to continue with them?"

The old wizard thought about that for a long minute.

"They are not needed anymore, technically speaking," he said eventually. "Your connection with Lord Voldemort was effectively severed thanks to Mr. Dresden's help and you are no more at risk of possession or even manipulation from him than anyone else. This said, I would suggest you continue on your learning of the Mind Arts. They have far more practical uses than blocking a madman from entering your mind from miles away."

The young Gryffindor's expression soured further at that.

"But perhaps," Dumbledore continued with a knowing look, "perhaps we could relieve Severus from this extra project. He is already burdened with the Order's business on top of his Potions lesson and his Head of House duties."

Harry looked on hopefully as the man smiled.

"Perhaps I could teach you," he proposed.

Harry agreed wholeheartedly and later left the office with a much better spirit than the one he had entered it with.

* * *

Author's notes – Thanks to the DLP folks are in order, I'd say. There are four more chapters ready so expect quicker-than-my-usual updates. Bye.

Uncle Stojil


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

It was almost dinner time at Hogwarts when Harry Potter, ignoring the slight rumble of his stomach, entered his 'test-room' for the umpteenth time that week. There was no helping it. If Professor Dumbledore and Hermione hadn't forced him to either study, teach the DA, sleep and occasionally eat, then he would have certainly set up camp there in order to study his new kind of magic.

The young Gryffindor hurriedly closed the door behind his back, not even bothering with a locking charm. No one ever ventured in that deserted part of the castle, anyway, especially at dinner, when every student and teacher gathered in the Great Hall to eat and relax. The nearest place not in disuse was the History of Magic classroom, after all, and everyone had always better things to do than go visit dear old Binns.

Pocketing the Marauder's Map after one last quick check, the boy-who-lived put his bag against the wall and drew his wand, placing it on the ground where it wouldn't interfere in any way with the spell he was going to try. He then walked to the center of the room, pulled a long piece of chalk out of his uniform's pocket and broke it in half for a better use. A wide grin threatened to split his face in two as the excitement of what he was about to do sent thrilling shivers down his spine.

There was something to say about Dresden magic – like he had started to call it as opposed to its Hogwarts counterpart. Seeing as no one knew it or knew what it could do, no one ever acted to protect themselves against it. He chuckled elatedly as he straightened the lock of brown hair he had gotten from Umbridge's curly head. He only hoped Ron wasn't giving himself and his Omnioculars away by sniggering too loudly down in the Great Hall.

The past week had been one of the best of the year for Harry, despite its admittedly not very good start. While perfect to make your blood rush, a fight to the death against a huge demon and a dark wizard doesn't do much for your nerves, and learning about a prophecy stating that you either kill a crazy murderer or die by his hand isn't so good for your morale either. That said, being exempted from getting mind-raped by a man you hate, visiting such a fascinating country as the USA instead of attending the worst classes in your school, and enjoying your time practicing your new 'wicked power' – as Ron had put it – can _definitely _improve your week.

The 'test room' had been very helpful for the latter. The first few attempts at using the Room of Requirement had come a couple of feet short from becoming a disaster. Apparently, the members of the DA all saw the magical chamber as a place to… _test_some of their own skills when applied to the opposite gender. Harry occasionally wondered if he wasn't actually wasting his time with Dresden magic, when he could devote himself to similar activities, instead.

After a couple of embarrassing encounters and near-misses, he had finally used the Marauder's Map to find his peaceful test-room, where he had immediately started to train and experiment. Little things at first, for this new energy had been difficult to control and direct, but he had upped the ante as soon as he had felt vaguely comfortable with it, and the results had already started to show. It was a pity he wouldn't get his hands on a summoning circle before a long while, according to the shipping company to which he had requested the materials, but for now he just had to make do with a stick of white chalk and a bottle of red ink.

The boy-who-lived crouched down to the stone floor, put his tools on the ground carefully and removed the few things that could get in the way. Satisfied with his work, he used the chalk to draw the most precise circle he could manage, while focusing on what he had set his mind to do. When he willed power into it, the white ring around him sprang to life with a quiet snap, blocking out any foreign magical energy wandering about.

Harry was once again mesmerized by the sensation of sudden tension pressing against him. It wasn't an unpleasant experience. Not at all. And he was starting to get used to it too, considering all the times he had toyed with a magic circle in the last week, not to mention all of Dresden's memories. It was one of the most basic forms of his new powers, but it was incredible nonetheless. It was like... it was like being isolated from the rest of the world and… being sheltered from it. He knew better, of course. Anyone entering the room would see and hear him without any problem, but that barrier, that invisible screen surrounding him made him feel safe for some reason.

It was oh so very exciting, and the discovery that even the Marauder's Map couldn't trace him when he was inside of it made him even more thrilled. That could end up being the best thing he had found out about his newfound powers yet and he couldn't wait to exploit it once back in confinement with the Dursleys. Would the Ministry even know if he used Hogwarts magic while behind his beloved chalk lines?

Harry really doubted it.

Professor Dumbledore too had admitted – not with a little dread – that there was no way that the Improper Use of Magic Office could recognize or even sense Dresden magic, so it was unlikely that it could get somehow past it either. If that turned out to be true, then Harry could practice Hogwarts magic too as long as he kept everything inside the circle, and that would mean, in short, a much less sucky summer in Privet Drive.

Still, Dresden magic was such an unknown energy, especially in this 'foreign' world, that he couldn't be completely sure until he tried, which he had every intention of doing as soon as he stepped into his relatives' house.

For the time being… for the time being Hogwarts would give him anything he needed.

Smoothing Umbridge's hair some more, Harry started his low chant, meaningless words rolling out of his mouth in a steady rhythm as he focused his will into the spell. A buzzing pressure immediately began building inside the circle, as he carefully picked up the bottle of red ink from the ground. Picturing the effects of the thaumaturgic spell as clearly as he could, he slowly poured the liquid over the brown lock of hair, soon staining his fingers and the stone floor at his feet with Gryffindor red spots. Faux Latin continued escaping his lips until the pressure became almost unbearable and he couldn't take it anymore.

At that point, Harry finally stepped over the white line of chalk, smearing it with his shoe and breaking the circle, effectively freeing the spell from its boundaries. The concentrated energy shot away at once, invisible force abandoning his body and the room, and leaving him slightly dizzy for a brief moment. Then a wolfish grin made its way through his face, and as he looked down at the soaked red lock of hair in his hands, he couldn't help but imagining the scene that was probably happening in the Great Hall right that instant.

Silently congratulating himself for a job well done, he hoped he had managed to colour not just Umbridge's hair but her whole body red, but he couldn't be entirely sure. It was funny. Thaumaturgy had always been what Dresden did best, but from what little he had practiced in the last week, he had realized he wasn't that great at it. He wasn't terrible either, but there was a not so subtle difference in results compared to those of the American wizard. At first he had thought it depended on his inexperience – knowing how to do magic through memories wasn't the same as actually doing it himself – but it wasn't just that. His talents were simply spread differently, if only slightly, than Dresden's.

For example, both he and the American teenager were practically hopeless in controlling and focusing the huge amount of magic they had been given, making Evocation all about power, and they both sucked at Trasmogrification, although Dresden faired a little better, if he had to be honest with himself.

The other major difference aside from Thaumaturgy, instead, had to be Illusion magic. Harry had discovered he was pretty good with veils, for example, while his otherworldly alter-ego just couldn't create a decent one to save his life. The young Gryffindor's attempts at raising one never turned out as good as what he had managed outside of Justin's lab, in Dresden's world – which seemed to support the theory that his magic and the American's sort of piled up when they were together – but he was pretty satisfied with them nonetheless since even Dumbledore had looked impressed when he had tried one in front of him. The veil hadn't quite concealed his presence from the old wizard's Magi Perceptio, but as far as his 'normal' senses went, the spell had hidden him completely.

Needless to say, he had immediately started to think about ways to exploit this as well and one thing was for sure – the Dursleys wouldn't know what hit them.

Literally.

Savouring in anticipation the hell he would put his so-called 'family' through, the boy-who-lived finally closed the empty ink-bottle and picked up the piece of chalk from the ground.

It was at that point that he saw Mrs. Norris.

Harry's breath caught in his throat at the sight of the cat standing on the entrance, after having somehow opened by a few inches the door he was sure he had closed. Only half of her scrawny body was actually inside the test-room, but from his position in the middle of the unused class, the boy-who-lived could clearly see her tail slowly swinging left and right in almost hypnotic movements. Her yellow eyes stared unblinkingly at him, their colour clashing eerily against the dusty-grey of her fur.

They stayed like that for an interminable minute, Harry absolutely frozen in place, seemingly like the rest of the world, while only Mrs. Norris' tail shifted lazily. The indistinct noises coming from outside were all but faded with the advancing of the dark hours and all was quiet.

At least until a hoarse voice echoed from one of the hallways nearby.

"Mrs. Norris? Where are you?"

_Filch._

"Did you catch someone?"

_Fuck._

Harry's eyes immediately darted down to the white marks of chalk on the stone floor, the large red blotch at his feet and the long hair still dripping red ink. The bag and wand resting near the wall were just two indistinct shapes out of the corner of his eye, as was the window on the other side of the room.

He looked up at the cat again. Widened green met pupil-slitted yellow, and for another moment, the young Gryffindor remained silent, before finally deciding to take his chances. He spoke in a very quiet voice.

"You're not going to rattle on me, are you, pretty kitty?"

The skeletal grey cat seemed to actually think about that. She tilted her head to the side, ears tensed up, while regarding the human being in front of her with amused interest.

Then she mewed. Loudly.

"You bitch!" the boy-who-lived cursed under his breath, glowering at the cat for a second before hurriedly brushing the chalk circle off the floor. He stomped on the white marks with more forcefulness than what was strictly necessary and grumbled something far from benevolent towards the drat cat.

Mrs. Norris mewed again in answer.

Not five seconds later, the young Gryffindor had dashed out of the old classroom, bag unbalanced on his shoulder and wand in hand, ears vaguely registering the now continuous calls of the animal and the excited rasping of Filch's voice, seemingly coming from just around the right corner. Harry ran to the left, of course, cursing his bad luck, his carelessness and every bloody cat in the world as he went. The caretaker's footsteps stopped for a moment, a gasp was heard and finally the chase resumed noisily once again. The boy-who-lived could easily picture the man's ugly face turning even uglier at the sight of the mess inside his test-room.

Filch's rasping soon started sounding horribly near, but it was hard to tell with the echo produced by the stone walls of the Hogwarts castle. Still, all that mattered was to not get caught. Nobody could reasonably accuse him of anything if he didn't get caught. The caretaker would just have to clean the red mess on his own, which was pretty funny considering that Harry himself would have done that if it hadn't been for the blasted cat. Now because of her, he probably had to give up his test-room as well.

"I can hear you!" Filch's wheezing voice echoed from somewhere behind him. "I can hear you… you sick… troublemaker!"

Harry scrambled away from the voice, tossing one last glare to Mrs. Norris sauntering in his wake, yellow eyes regarding him with evil amusement. The young Gryffindor didn't pay any more attention to her but for a wide swing of his bag, swooping down in her direction quickly. She dodged the blow easily but fell back at once, a threatening hiss leaving her open muzzle before she could go off to join her master.

The blazing torches littering Hogwarts' hallways made good light of Harry's path as he ran towards the common room and safety. The sound of his feet pounding the stone floor echoed loudly through the castle, blending with those of his pursuer and with the crackling of the fire.

Why the hell had he started running anyway, he asked himself, when he could have simply used a veil? Sure, he still needed a bit of focus and some time, but he could have managed a passable one in that situation. He just hadn't thought about it, he realized. It would probably take him a while to really think of Dresden magic as a possible solution to his everyday problems.

When he eventually became reasonably sure he had shaken the caretaker off, the boy-who-lived slowed down a little and tried to calm his breathing as much as he could, the chilling cold of Scotland piercing his lungs like a handful of sharp needles. His heartbeat had finally calmed down when Mrs. Norris rounded the corner and mewed at him again, startling him badly.

"I'm... here… sweety…" Filch's breathless voice was feeble now, but once again not very distant. "I'm going to… get them!"

Harry cursed, scowling at the scrawny yet relentless cat. "Aren't you like a hundred-years-old? Drop dead already!"

He glanced at the corridor ahead before deciding to give his veil a try, and he had already started focusing on it when multiple voices added to Filch and his cat's, this time from the other direction. They sounded feminine and very close, much closer than the Squib behind him, and they were apparently laughing and giggling in great amusement.

Harry bit his bottom lip in uncertainty and then cursed again, giving up on the spell and resuming his run. No time for veils. Whoever these other people were, he told himself, they couldn't be as bad as the sadistic, Umbridge-loving caretaker. He just hoped they weren't Slytherins, but he readied his wand for that eventuality, anyway. Fumbling awkwardly to balance his bag, he skidded another corner and faced the newcomers, Filch's footsteps and rasping following him as he went.

He found himself running at full speed towards Cho Chang, walking down the hallway with two of her girlfriends flanking her. The sixth-year Ravenclaw was laughing amusedly until she finally saw him and was startled a little. Her surprise turned into a bright smile as she greeted him.

"Hey, Harry!" she called, head slightly tilted to the side and arms wrapped tightly around the books she was holding.

The boy-who-lived found the pose extremely cute – and Cho Chang in general extremely pretty – but he tried not to dwell too much on that. The usual butterflies had already started fluttering their little wings inside his stomach, and by the feeling of it, they were also crashing against each other wildly, causing him all sorts of pleasant/unpleasant effects. He hadn't quite stopped his run, but he had slowed down to a jog, managing to settle the heavy bag firmly on his left shoulder. He felt a little unsteady on his feet as his eyes wandered on their own to Cho's lips, forcing his mind back to the kiss they had shared at Christmas.

Mind which was promptly brought back to the present by Filch's panting voice.

"Ah-ah!" Harry heard him cry in exultance from not far away. "I got you! I got you!"

Butterflies scattered and dispersed as the young Gryffindor sped up again, not wanting to wait around to find out what the caretaker thought he had got. When he reached the three Ravenclaws who had completely stopped at Filch's voice, he finally came to a halt.

"Hi Cho," he said, breathing heavily. "Have to run," he panted, "now."

He tried not to stare at her parted lips - _so full, so red, so_- and stepped to the left, right as she stepped to the right, effectively blocking his passage.

"Oh, sorry," she said as he moved sideways again, only for her to do the same. She giggled cutely at their accidental impromptu dance and the surviving butterflies in his stomach seemed to go crazy at the simple sound. He crushed them deliberately this time around, as he visualized what Filch and Umbridge would do to him if they caught him literally red-handed and blamed him for what had surely happened in the Great Hall.

Cho started a little, tensing, when he put his ink-stained hands on her shoulders and firmly moved her around. Her legs followed his lead almost passively, and she soon found herself where Harry had been a second before, their places switched. The dark-haired boy patted her shoulders awkwardly once and then got back to running, trying to move his unbalanced bag to his other side. He had just turned the next corner when he heard himself blurt out something.

"Hey, Cho…" he called, sticking his head back to the hallway he had just passed and finding her in the exact same spot where he had left her. "Would you… uhm… would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next week?"

The sixth-year Ravenclaw blinked twice before grinning brightly.

"Y-yes!" she shouted back. "I would love to!"

Harry was masking his panic with his panting, and he was doing a damn good job too, if he could say so himself. He showed Cho a brief smile, hoping it didn't look as nervous as it felt, and nodded at her.

"Perfect," he panted, hesitated and finally nodded again. "See you."

And then he resumed his very manly escape from both the wheezing Filch and the giggling girls behind him.

"Bloody hell," he chocked out, feeling his face heat up as if it was on fire. "This is all Mrs. Norris' fault."

But he couldn't help a silly smile from making its way to his bemused face.

* * *

Harry Potter exited the class of Defence Against the Dark Arts with a barely contained snarl. He could still hear Umbridge's high-pitched voice grating from inside the room about what a disappointment Gryffindors were education-wise and how internal influences were to be blamed for that.

He almost turned back at those words, feeling a sharp retort about _her _internal influences already on his lips, but instead, he just scratched his lightning-shaped scar irritably and stomped away, forcing his two best friends to a jog to catch up with him. The mark on his forehead hadn't disappeared completely in the end, contrary to what Professor Dumbledore had thought at first, but according to the old wizard the possibility couldn't be ruled out just yet. Harry didn't know whether to be happy or not, and frankly speaking, at the moment he couldn't care less. He was just glad he could take some of his annoyance out on it with his nails.

"That awful, _awful _woman!" Hermione said as soon as she had joined him. "She can't talk to students like that!"

Harry only grumbled his agreement with unintelligible noises.

"I'm… kind of surprised you didn't say anything back there," Ron commented a little warily. "Considering… well…"

There was no need to finish the sentence. The boy-who-lived knew what his friend was talking about.

"I'm proud of you," Hermione stepped in quickly, throwing a dangerous glare to the red-head. "You never responded to her provocations and you didn't lower yourself to her level. You showed that unfair… _hag _how much more mature you are!"

Ron put a hand on his best mate's shoulder.

"See, Harry? You're more mature than Umbridge," he said in a cheerful voice. "Aren't you happy?"

That drew a snort of both irritation and amusement from Harry's lips, before a frown came back to mar his features. "I so wanted to shut her up."

"We know," Hermione said quickly. "But you would have gotten yourself in trouble. And for what? For nothing, I tell you."

The boy-who-lived mumbled noncommittally and stayed silent. Part of him disagreed with the girl, but he didn't voice his thoughts. He knew why he hadn't risen to Umbridge's taunts and it had nothing to do with detention or other similar repercussions.

He hadn't done that because Dresden wanted to.

Well, not really Dresden, more like his… memories? Personality? He still didn't know how to call the thing he was dealing with at the moment. But whatever the name, the fact remained that all that the American boy had passed onto him had started to influence his actions.

And he hated that.

It was pretty stressing. Harry wanted to be the person he was before all that alternate-dimensional-mess had happened, but it wasn't that easy. Foreign memories, ideas or even reactions had been springing up in his life like unconditioned responses, affecting him on more than one level and making him feel… making him feel like he didn't know himself anymore.

That was why he had resisted with all his might the strong urge to give lip to the High Inquisitor, trying to distract his mind with either the memory of the perfectly successful prank he had pulled on her the last dinner or physical pain on himself in the shape of his semi-grazed lightning scar. Since he had come back from Dresden's world, he had found talking back to people extremely easy and almost automatic, and although that had led to all kinds of fun when Malfoy and the Slytherins had been involved, he still felt terribly uncomfortable whenever one of these episodes took place.

Having Ron and Hermione at his side during this transformation of sorts had been helpful and liberating, and Harry was glad he had told them about Dresden. He could tell that they were a bit unsettled by it as well, but they were also doing their best not to show it. Hermione constantly reminded him to 'try and keep it in perspective', which often helped him prevent 'out of character' reactions, while Ron had started calling him out on it whenever he 'pulled a Dresden'. Some times the boy-who-lived wondered if telling them about the prophecy too would be such a bad idea, after all…

So, also with the aid of his two best friends, Harry was fighting these unwanted changes that were being forced upon him. He was losing, though, if he had to be honest with himself, but the simple fact that he was _trying _appeased him somewhat.

That said, he would hold onto this sort of problems all his life if it meant not giving up the powers they had come with, which were hopefully going to be decisive against Voldemort. The complete package was definitely worth keeping, all things considered, if it was going to keep _him _alive, and he was glad to Dresden for that. He would have never asked Cho out on a date either if it hadn't been for the American wizard, a little voice in his head whispered to him, but he ignored it in favor of Ron's.

"I reckon she suspects you for yesterday's prank," the young Weasley was saying in the meantime, grin widening on his face. An amused chuckled escaped his lips as he visibly recalled the shower of red ink that had hit the unsuspecting Umbridge in the Great Hall. "Speaking about it, tonight is the Theater Special Edition. Fred and George are going to use our Omnioculars to put up a little show starring our beloved High Inquisitor. They want to know how we did that, by the way."

"They also said they have to speak with their _partner _and explain him the value of being present to one's own prank," Hermione said, looking suspiciously at Harry. "In order to both act innocently and gloat at the same time, they said."

Harry's expression remained unreadable as he continued to stare directly in front of him. He still hadn't told anyone about giving the twins his Triwizard winnings.

"I'll thank them for the advice the next time I prank someone in the Great Hall."

"Hmmm," Hermione murmured, sounding displeased, but he wasn't sure whether it was because of the lie or the possibility of him pulling another practical joke on Umbridge. She hadn't exactly been happy with that particular test on Dresden magic Harry and Ron had come up with for the previous evening, but she had accepted to hold a pair of Omnioculars to record the scene all the same. "Any news from… Padfoot yet?"

The boy-who-lived frowned.

"Oh, didn't I tell you? His letter came yesterday night."

"Really?" the bushy-haired girl asked interestedly. "And what did it say?"

"That his cake had come out good and not to worry about my silverware."

Ron snorted. "I love this secret thing you have come up with."

Harry grumbled. "It's useless now… Who would have thought we'd need a codeword for 'alternate dimension' when we first created it? His face must have been priceless when he read my babbling about melons in my letter."

The red-head grinned widely. "He probably took it as something naughty, knowing him."

"It does sound dirty…" the boy-who-lived agreed with a slight smile but it soon dropped off his face. With Umbridge controlling the floo and the mail, trying to communicate with people outside Hogwarts was an absolute nightmare. Sirius was convinced they had thought about a good way to go around it, but he hadn't taken Harry's abnormal life into account, unfortunately. He sighed. "I just wish I could talk to him."

Hermione looked at him sadly while Ron seemed thoughtful.

"Didn't he give you something? For when you needed him?" he asked. "What was that package, anyway? You never told me what it was."

The boy-who-lived felt like being struck by lightning.

"What package?" Hermione asked curiously.

"The one he gave me after Christmas! I had completely forgotten about that!" he said excitedly. "I wonder what it is…"

"And I'm wondering where are you taking us. Harry?" the bushy-haired girl asked and Ron too stopped walking for a moment and turned his head around in confusion.

"Hey, the common room is down there!" he realized, pointing at a hallway they had just passed.

The boy-who-lived stopped thinking about Sirius' gift and frowned at his friends.

"Hmmm? Oh. Yes," he said eventually. "I just wanted to work a bit on our little side project, and I thought you could give me a hand…"

"I'm in," the young Weasley said at once, quick on the uptake. He knew what the alternative was already, and dreaded it with some dismay.

"Harry," Hermione started in a reprimanding tone, glaring briefly at Ron, "we have some study to do, and you know it. There are the Transfiguration essay about Tarcinus Law and the Charms one about the Afflo spell. And Snape will take even more points from you if you don't finish the pepper-up potion in time."

"I know," the boy-who-lived admitted even as he grinned brightly to try and affect the girl with his enthusiasm. "But this will be fun! And… and instructive! You get to see how magic from another world really works. This will be the hardest thing I've done yet and you can compare it to Hogwarts magic, if there's a counterpart to it." He pressed on in seeing her hesitation. "Come on, 'Mione. It won't take much time…"

The bushy-haired girl bit her lower lip before rolling her eyes.

"Oh, fine," she relented and her two friends grinned at each other. "But then we will finish _all _our homework for Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. Is that clear?"

"Like water," Ron said at once.

"Crystal water," Harry followed swiftly.

Hermione just looked suspiciously at them.

They reached their destination five minutes later, checked on the Marauder's Map that no one was around, and then walked up and down the normal-looking wall in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor. It was a small success already that the door suddenly appeared from the stone but it was practically a miracle that it wasn't occupied by snogging couples, and Harry entered it with a pleased smile.

The boy-who-lived willed it just as he always did for the DA meetings, a large chamber entirely bare but for some bookcases and a few silk pillows on the ground. As he put down his bag, he mentally asked for a more comfortable seat and immediately a long couch, not unlike the ones littering the Gryffindor common room, popped into existence in front of him.

"Will it take long?" Ron asked plopping down on it.

"Why do you ask?" Harry glanced briefly in his direction and the young Weasley patted his flat stomach repeatedly.

"It's almost dinner time."

"No, it's not," Hermione shot back, taking out her wand and checking the time. "It's over an hour away."

The red-head shrugged. "I'm hungry, anyway."

He had barely finished the sentence when a large trey full of sandwiches appeared on a pillow right next to him.

"Nice!" he commented, taking the first one. "Thanks Harry!"

He started stuffing his mouth immediately.

"Thanks Dobby, you mean," the boy-who-lived corrected, looking around. The house-elf had done that all week. "It shouldn't take long, anyway," he continued after a moment, opening his bag and pulling out the few books in it. He tossed them rather carelessly to the side – earning himself a disapproving look from Hermione – before producing a large plastic bag that he put on his lap as he asked the room for a table.

"What's in there?" Ron asked through a mouth full of food.

"Chalk, knife, ink… the usual," he said with a shrug, rummaging in it. "Plus…" he added as his hand closed on two cool objects, "these."

He pulled out a pair of long cylindrical rocks, their pinkish hue glimmering slightly under the light of the candles.

"Aren't those…" Hermione started, perking up visibly, "quartzes?"

"Yeah," Harry said, putting them on the table. "I just got them this morning."

"What do we need them for?"

"They're going to contain the energy needed for the ward we're setting up," the boy-who-lived explained. "You either use a metal or a mineral if you want to store Dresden magic. Wood if you want to channel it. Well, technically you can use just about anything, but it's with those materials that you get the best and most lasting results. And we need every help we can get considering our ward isn't going to be anchored to a threshold. That would be how normal wards are usually done in Dresden's world."

Ron held up his hand to attract Harry's attention. He noisily swallowed whatever he had in his mouth and then spoke up. "Why don't we anchor it to the threshold, then?"

"Because there's none here."

The red-head looked at him perplexed, before pointing at the door.

"Harry, there's one right over there," he said as if speaking to a silly – or crazy – kid.

"That's not a threshold," the young Gryffindor replied shaking his head. "Not the kind I'm talking about, anyway. In Dresden magic, a threshold is... it's like a field of energy. It surrounds a home and keeps out unwanted magical forces, causing all supernatural beings to lose all or part of their powers when they cross it uninvited."

"Like with vampires?" Hermione asked, looking enraptured like every time he explained something about his otherworldly knowledge.

"Yes, exactly like that. And you can build really powerful magical constructs upon a threshold. It strengthens the magic you use, be it a spell or a ward." He drew his wand from his uniform pockets. "Now, that one," he said while pointing the stick at the door, "isn't Hogwarts' threshold. And Hogwarts isn't a home, anyway. I seriously doubt the castle's main entrance has any form of threshold whatsoever, either." He shrugged. "It's just a school."

Hermione looked a bit affronted by that but she didn't say anything.

"So, do you think the Burrow has one?" Ron asked curiously.

"Sure," Harry said. "So does Grimmauld Place. Those two should have some serious thresholds, I think."

"Why?"

"Well… how long has your family lived there?"

"Over four centuries, according to Dad," Ron said. "Although, if I think Uncle Darcy could have slept or washed where I do..."

He shuddered comically, leaving his friends to wonder about this Uncle Darcy.

"Right." Harry shook his head. "Four centuries... I can't even imagine what kind of threshold could have grown there."

"Does a threshold _grow _depending on how long you live in a house?" Hermione asked in interest.

"You can say that," Harry agreed. "Although we're not talking about a house here. We're talking about a home."

"Is there a difference?" Ron asked, the trey full of sandwiches all but forgotten.

"A huge one." Harry thought it over before eventually explaining. "Justin used to say this often: a house doesn't make a home. Well, it's true. A home has a history that a house lacks, the history of a family, often involving powerful emotions like joy, sadness, hope or despair. I've yet to step inside one since I've gotten this new magic, but I don't think it will be any different from what Dresden experiences in his own world. If I enter one uninvited, I'll leave part of my powers at the door, the threshold stripping them from me."

"Fascinating," Hermione whispered with wide eyes.

"Yeah," the boy-who-lived agreed before looking at Ron with a small smile. "The Weasley family has lived in the Burrow for centuries. It would probably make me as good as a muggle, Dresden magically speaking, with the threshold it must have."

"Not unlike any other pureblood house," Hermione pointed out helpfully. "Or better home."

"Probably." Harry took the quartzes and examined them intently. "Anyway, as I was saying, our ward will be weakened for lack of a threshold. That probably means I will have to charge it once a month, more or less."

The young Gryffindor put the two stones down on the table and pulled a piece of chalk out of his bag. After drawing a little mark on the pinkish surface of the first rock, he pointed his wand at it.

"Diffindo."

The fine light of the spell hit the mineral exactly where he had marked it, immediately severing it into two almost identical pieces. Satisfied with the results, the boy-who-lived proceeded to do the same with the other, before putting his wand down on the table. He held the four halves up for his friends to see, careful about not mixing them up, and smiled.

"We're going to put one piece of both stones down the two ends of the hallway outside – I was thinking above the portraits or inside the suits of armor – and we'll keep the remaining halves in the room with us. If the spell succeeds like I hope, the quartzes outside will make us know through their 'brothers' here if anyone walks in the corridor."

"Wicked," was Ron's appreciative comment.

"How does it work exactly?" Hermione asked instead, always in need of more details.

"These halves were one single stone until a moment ago, right?" Harry explained, showing for a second the two pieces in his left hand before holding up those in his right. "So were these two. This spell is based on the idea that, no matter if they've been separated, the pieces of the quartz are still magically connected to one another. Being minerals they will keep their link for a long time, unlike plastic or wood, as long as they're not significantly altered or taken too far away from each other. Once I work my magic on one half, the other one will... experience everything the other does. Sorta."

"Like the galleons for the DA?" Ron asked, turning to Hermione.

"It does sound similar to the Protean charm," the girl agreed, "but I'm guessing there is more to it, right? Some kind of automatic response or awareness. How would the quartzes alert us of anything otherwise?"

The boy-who-lived nodded.

"That's right. That's just one of the steps for the ward, reinforcing the link between the stones. Other than that I'll have to power them up with enough magic to make up for the lack of threshold and then shape the energy so as to act, react and even manifest like I want it to."

Hermione nodded, having apparently surmised that much, but she looked extremely impressed anyway.

"Wow… doing something like that with our magic would require… I don't even know… enchanting at the very least!" she said excitedly. " This is incredible, Harry!"

"Well," the boy-who-lived mumbled, half-embarrassed and half-pleased, "this _is _enchanting, in a manner of speaking, although it's a much quicker process. I'll have to engrave a symbol on the quartzes to make them store magic and another one to direct it. And only between them I'll have to perform the actual thaumaturgy," and he added after noticing Ron's confused look, "like what I did to prank Umbridge."

"Make something happen on a small scale and give it the energy to happen on a larger scale too," Hermione quoted and Harry flashed her a grin.

"Precisely."

Ron was grinning too at the proud expression on the girl's face.

"He's not going to award you points, Hermione," he quipped, turning to his best mate before she could say anything. "So what will our ward do?"

In the meantime, Harry had pulled a knife out of his plastic bag and had already started carving one of the quartz pieces.

"With no threshold to anchor it to, I really can't build much more than an alarm ward. A distraction at most," he explained, "which is a pity because I would _love _to fry Umbridge's hairy ass should she pay the DA a visit."

"I still don't understand why you're being so stubborn about warding the room," Hermione said with a shake of her head and the boy-who-lived actually took a moment off carving to shrug his shoulders.

"I'm not being stubborn," he said. "It's just another way to test Dresden magic."

"No, it's not just that," the bushy-haired girl disagreed at once. "You've been oddly adamant about this all week."

Harry didn't look at her, concentrated on the stone in his hands. He moved the knife down to the lowest part of the symbol and engraved the final horizontal line to intersect it.

"Better safe than sorry, that's all," he said simply. "Just want to be ready when it happens."

He saw his friends share a strange look out of the corner of his eye.

"_When _it happens?" Hermione repeated and he bit back the curse that had risen to his lips. "Harry. Harry, look at me. You're talking like you know for certain that someone is going to betray the DA!"

He mumbled noncommittally under his breath.

"Mate," Ron started in a careful voice, "is there something you're not telling us?"

The boy-who-lived sighed quietly.

"No," he said tiredly. "I just… you can never know for sure. Maybe it won't happen, maybe it will. It doesn't hurt to be prepared."

His gaze met Hermione's for a brief second and he realized she had understood. He looked away quickly.

"Oh," she all but whispered, her eyes widening slightly while Ron frowned in confusion. "Elaine."

Harry jerked his head in a nod, still not looking up.

"You can't know for sure," he mumbled again.

"Harry," she started with a distressed voice, "you have to keep it in perspective! Only because she-"

"I know," he cut her off in annoyance before letting out a calming breath. "Believe me, I know. It's stupid and it has nothing to do with me…"

"But it still hurts," she finished for him with a broken voice.

He frowned.

"I hate that it does."

And that said, he put the stone back on the table and busied himself with the other one. The sound of the knife working the quartz was all he heard in the next few minutes but for Hermione's occasional sniffle as she studied the symbol he had just carved. Harry had been sure she would have said something, but found himself very surprised when it was actually Ron to speak up.

"Harry… you know…" the red-head started hesitantly, shifting on his spot on the couch in clear discomfort. The boy-who-lived glanced at him and couldn't help but wonder about the redness of his ears. "I-I-I never quite apologized for last year. You know… for the Tournament," he continued, gesturing vaguely with his hand and blushing even more. "I'm sorry. I was an idiot to turn my back on you." He took a deep breath before finally looking at him straight in the eyes. "And I want you to know that… well, I'll never do it again."

Harry held his gaze for just a moment, enough to feel the pull of the Soulgaze start, before quickly looking away, blinking repeatedly.

"Don't you go all emotional on me," he said quietly.

Ron barked out a laugh loaded with relief.

"Sorry," he said simply, and the word had more than just one meaning.

Harry smiled a little too. "You're welcome."

When Hermione sniffled loudly again, the boy-who-lived decided that the situation had gotten tearful enough. He quickly finished the symbol on the second stone and blew some dust off its engravings.

"I'm done with this, too" he said eventually, putting the knife down.

"Right," Hermione said, before clearing her voice and holding up the quartz she had been inspecting. "How do we go about this?"

"Alright," Harry started. "The first step should be relatively easy. I have to charge the two halves I've carved with a lot of raw power. That's something I'm not short of. The next bit is a little more difficult, seeing as I have to reinforce the thaumaturgic link between the stones without causing the energy in them to fry my ass."

"Harry!" Hermione cried out apprehensively.

"But let's not worry about that just yet," the boy-who-lived said confidently. He took the quartz from Hermione's hands and examined it thoughtfully. "You may want to step back."

Ron complied at once, while the Gryffindor girl seemed hesitant. "Harry-"

"Don't worry, Hermione," the red-head interrupted her. "This is the easy step, remember?" She eventually moved away and he flashed his best friend a wide grin. "Go on, mate."

Harry nodded, closing his eyes to better concentrate and gather his will, fumbling with the quartz in his hand. He knew that, although not lacking raw power, he sucked in Evocation nonetheless because of his lack of control, but this job didn't require any, or at least, not much. It was just about channeling energy inside the stone, and it didn't really matter if it was an ounce or a ton at the time. All it mattered was knowing when to stop, and then doing it before anything bad could happen.

He felt his friend's eyes on him and tried not to smile. This would definitely be a colourful sight for them. He could easily picture their eyes widening in awe as the quartz started warming and subsequently glimmering in his left hand. He poured more power into it from his right, feeling the pleasant sensation of magic flowing down his arm and into the stone, leaving him elated and dizzy like the time he had taken a sip of god-knew-what-it-was from the bottle locked in the cabinet of the living ro-

"Hey!" He said scowling at himself. "That was Dresden!"

The Dursleys never had a liquor cabinet at home. They had that awful wooden cart with large copper wheels and that damn-

"Harry!"

Hermione's sudden warning made him open his eyes and he almost wished he hadn't. The quartz in his hands was wrapped up in such a bright red light that even Hermione, despite not knowing anything about his spell, had understood it wasn't normal. The stone flashed painfully once and he blinked his eyes repeatedly as he immediately blocked the transfer of energy he had foolishly lost track of.

"Harry! Stop it!"

The boy-who-lived tried to reign on the magic around his hands, drawing them in again, but the panic in his friend's voice and the quartz brimming over with magic had already started to affect him. As his concentration wavered dangerously, all he could do was look up in horror.

"Shield!" he shouted and had barely the time to see Ron draw his wand when the eerie red light pulsed outwards and engulfed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, blinded, right as a wave of heat and smoke smashed against him with choking strength. He felt an unexpected and yet familiar power swirl around him and heard a voice calling his name.

Then nothing.

* * *

Author's notes – Once again, thank you to the DLP community for improving the chapter.

Uncle Stojil


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

I woke up to the sound of grumpy murmurs and to a pair of callused hands shaking me. The painfully strong light just beyond my eyelids told me it was a bad idea to open them for the time being, so I simply stayed there, without moving, trying to remember why the hell my head hurt so much.

It took me a moment to recall the exploding sphere of magic and Hermione's frightened face. That, I had to admit, could have been a plausible reason for my otherwise unexplained headache, if the sharp knife lodged in my skull could be called that. I felt like I had earned it, though, considering what an idiot I had been. Getting distracted during potentially dangerous magic… really, I was better than that.

The flickering glow beyond my closed eyes had become more bearable, but the callused hands still shaking me hadn't. The rough treatment was starting to get on my nerves.

"Stop it," I mumbled, trying to roll on the side, and as my hands touched the ground, I felt idly surprised that what I had brushed was grass.

"Stop it, he says," a gruff voice I didn't recognize answered me. It was deep and strong, had a faint Scottish accent and definitely harsh with annoyance. "Let me know when Your Majesty is feeling rested enough, then, will you? Up and about!"

Something hit my hip hard at those words and I rolled away, standing up as fast as I could and squinting my eyes open.

A big wooden stick greeted my nose from two inches away. It was dark, thick and decorated with carved sigils and formulae which made little sense to my still drowsy mind. They were, however, peculiar enough to make me immediately recognize that I had a magic staff pointed at my face.

"Hell's bells," I whispered, stunned, looking with wide eyes over the magical focus and to the wizard – presumably – holding it.

He was a short and stocky old man in blue overalls, working boots and a loose T-shirt stained with oil, grease and white paint.

And ash. Lots of ash.

The wizard was practically covered with it, from the almost bald head over to the large hands and down to the shoes. His lips were twisted in an irritated expression and his wrinkled eyes were narrowed dangerously. I relaxed only slightly when he finally lowered his staff and let out a tired breath.

"This is exactly why I fill your head with my babbling about power and responsibility," he said, shaking his head. He then nodded it at me and sighed again. "Christ, Hoss. Look at the risks we face."

The pain in my head had finally receded, although a faint buzzing sound was lingering in my ears, but I could only blink my eyes in confusion, continuing to stare at him and not knowing what to do. His repeated nods in my direction alarmed me enough to make me take a worried look at my body, almost expecting to find something more or something less than what was supposed to be there. In doing so, my first thought about where and most importantly who I was, was confirmed.

I was Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden and this was his world.

Again.

I was also covered in ash, too, I realized, much like the man standing in front of me. Rubbing my left thumb and index together, I watched as the sooth spread over my fingertips, blackening them.

"Behind you," the man huffed with an irritated gesture of his staff, and I suddenly felt very stupid when I turned around.

I immediately understood what the man was talking about and only part of the reason was the sight of the burned down building still smoldering nearby. What really made me get it was _remembering it_.

It felt just like the first time it had happened, an unobtrusive and immediate appearance of facts and thoughts inside my brain, without any forced or convoluted flow of images or other such things. It was as if those memories had always been there and I just hadn't _thought_ about them yet.

I didn't so much as blink as I took in Ebenezar McCoy's farm in Hog Hollow, Missouri. I cringed, though, as my eyes swept over what remained of his old barn.

The building had been pretty much razed to the ground but for a blackened crossbeam half-standing in the middle of it and casting its long shadow over the black car parked nearby, an old '37 Ford pickup that had seen better days. The sun was starting to set beyond the hills and soon only the night stars would shine over the smoldering ruins and the old house not far from it. Ash covered everything within sight, and if I hadn't known better, I would have thought it was bizarre grey snow.

I turned around and looked at the man who had lately become Dresden's new mentor, carefully avoiding his eyes. I knew he had insisted on a Soulgaze within an hour of meeting the American teenager, but I didn't know what the presence of one Harry Potter behind those same eyes would cause. I kept quiet, wondering what the hell was I doing here again and how would I get back to where I was supposed to be.

"That was the lousiest evocation of fire I had seen from you yet," Ebenezar said with a scowl. "I hope you know at least why that is, hmm?"

I continued to just stand there with my mouth shut close, paralyzed by the indecision. In the last week, I had inevitably thought about the eventuality of popping back into Dresden's body, one day. I had made all kinds of conjectures about what I would have done, how I would have acted and where I would have gone. My favorite one was definitely taking Bob to that nice little night club on Wilkinson Street and getting wasted in Elaine's face. There were others, of course, some fancy, some funny, others exciting… the best of plans.

The best of delusions, it turned out.

I understood it then, while shooting nervous glances at the man who was teaching me – teaching Dresden! – what magic was and why it should be used. The situation was far less simple than how I had imagined it, for things had evolved in ways I hadn't expected at all for my unlucky alter-ego, and I wasn't so sure whether that was for the best or for the worst.

But pondering about that could take the backseat for the time being. I had to play once more.

"Too much power, sir?" I asked politely in my American accent.

Ebenezar laughed, which surprised me.

"I knew you'd have said that. Too much power is a way of looking at what happened here," he admitted, shaking his head amusedly. "Too little control is another one. All the magic power in the world wouldn't hurt a fly if one put enough focus into it." He laughed again, though this time it sounded bitter and nostalgic to me. "Power, Harry. You have it. You have it in spades. That isn't a bad thing, per se, when it comes to magic. Not at all. It's a beautiful gift you've been given and you should honor it by using it wisely."

"It was an accident," I said quietly.

"Yes, it was an accident and my barn is reduced to ashes," Ebenezar replied at once, his voice as quiet and firm as the old trees surrounding Hog Hollow. "Think about what would actually happen, then, if you _wanted_ to use your power for something like that. You have to be careful, Harry. I can't tell you that enough."

I heard myself grumble under my breath, feeling annoyance and guilt welling up in equal parts inside me, and the fact that I couldn't immediately tell whether they were mine or Dresden's only deepened my scowl. I could sense his presence now, just beyond reach, his will pressing against mine in the hope to regain control over our shared body. It felt weak, or maybe far away, and I was certain I could have easily squashed it had I wanted to, like I had done during my first stay into this world.

But I didn't want that now. Dresden didn't need me or my magic at the moment, and in light of what had happened to him since my last visit, I knew it was best for everyone if I just let him be.

I had recognized the familiar buzzing sound in my ears, anyway, now that it had grown louder.

I was already going back.

So I welcomed his struggle this time around, lowering whatever defence I had and withdrawing my will as much as I could. The bubbling of his emotions on the surface started getting stronger, more assured too, and the entire Harry Dresden tiredly followed in its wake as he re-emerged again. He grew then, right as I shrank and backed away, leaving him free room to move in.

It was _his_ room, after all.

"Let's go inside the house now. We'll pick up the pieces as soon as the sun rises tomorrow," Ebenezar was saying in the meantime. I saw him walk away like a blurred figure through the mist but his deep voice seemed to carry out even over the dark pit I was slowly falling into. "Heh. I'll miss that barn. How many of your beatings did it witness in just over a week, do you reckon?"

I felt Dresden shuffling our feet in his direction as the buzzing sound became almost painful in my ears. The world around me grew ever fainter as the noise got louder until everything else ceased to exist.

* * *

Harry Potter stirred slowly, a quiet moan escaping his lips as he started rolling on his back.

"Harry!" Hermione's cry pierced his ears, her voice both surprised and relieved.

The boy-who-lived sighed deeply, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Tell me I'm not in the Infirmary," he groaned.

There was a brief pause before Ron answered him.

"If you want to," the boy said, and Harry could easily picture him shrugging. "You're not in the Infirmary."

The boy-who-lived sighed again, taking in the unmistakable scent of healing potions.

"You're a good friend, Ron," he mumbled, slowly opening his eyes while tasting on his tongue the faint trace of whatever Madame Pomfrey had given him. He immediately noticed the bandages wrapped around his hands but was glad he couldn't feel any pain. He looked at the red-head and at the tearing-up Hermione with some concern as he sat up, reaching for his glasses and wand on the nightstand. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, Harry! You scared us to death! Again!" the girl screeched with a broken voice, tackling him. "Stop getting hurt!"

The young Gryffindor returned the hug, and the knot of guilt gripping his stomach started to loosen at once. He put on his glasses and smiled weakly at the red-head rolling his eyes behind her.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, patting her back awkwardly. "What happened?"

"After the explosion?" Ron asked when it seemed the girl was too busy sniffling. The boy-who-lived frowned at the word used by his friend but nodded nonetheless. "We got shields up in time, although the blast was almost strong enough to overpower our Protego. Our faces would have looked like your hands if it had."

Hermione finally released him and made an effort to recompose herself.

"Burnt," she specified after sniffling, gesturing at the bandages covering him from the wrists down.

"They… didn't look pretty." The red-head still looked a bit shaken judging by his disturbed wince. "Are they hurting?"

Harry, who had been prodding his left palm with his right hand, stopped his actions and smiled sheepishly at his friends. "Not one bit."

"Of course. Madame Pomfrey healed them as soon as we brought you in," Hermione said. "They're not the reason you're here."

The boy-who-lived nodded, already thinking on those lines.

"You couldn't wake me up, could you?" he asked and they both nodded.

"We tried to convince Madame Pomfrey you were fine, just sort of sleeping, but she wouldn't listen," Ron explained, and a grin suddenly appeared on his face. "She almost went into hysterics when Dumbledore arrived and stopped her from taking you to St. Mungo's. Again." Harry snorted, imagining the scene, while the red-head continued. "In her defence, though, Dobby freaking out didn't help much either."

"Huh?" he asked, puzzled. "Dobby? What did he do?"

As if on cue, a low grumble came from the bed to their right, and the boy-who-lived snapped his head in its direction. The house-elf in question was lying there, apparently unconscious, his legs and part of his midsection completely wrapped in bandages. He was wearing two or maybe three mismatched sweaters, none of them actually his size, while a ridiculous amount of colourful socks and scarves had been put on the nightstand nearby, some of them visibly scorched in multiple spots.

The boy-who-lived was at his bedside in an instant.

"What happened to him?" he asked with shock and panic. His own bandaged hands hovered hesitantly above Dobby's legs before eventually resting on the bed. "Is he okay?"

"Easy, mate," Ron told him. "He's going to be fine."

"He's only resting now," Hermione continued, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Madam Pomfrey healed his burns and gave him a calming draught."

"He… he kind of went nuts up there," the red-head explained before amending. "Well… more than usual."

"Poor thing!" the girl said empathetically. "He was in the Room of Requirement when the spell failed. After the energy dispersed, we saw him standing in front of you to protect you with magic. His legs looked horrible, they had caught the worst of the explosion, and he still wouldn't stop mumbling about bringing you to the Infirmary! When he passed out we levitated you both here."

Harry felt shocked and more than a little guilty, his eyes lingering a long time on Dobby's injuries.

"He's fine," Hermione repeated, trying to reassure her friend. "Don't worry about him. He'll be up and about as soon as the potion wears off."

He just nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment, and gripped Dobby's hand tightly in silent thanks. The house-elf grumbled something incomprehensible in his sleep, his long ears flapping lightly once.

"He probably got hurt worse after he woke up here," Ron said with a wince. "He wouldn't stop punishing himself for failing 'the great Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, sir.' I don't know how many times he head-butted the wall before we could stop him."

"Wait-what?" The boy-who-lived looked at his friend in confusion. "Dumbledore? How was he failing Dumbledore?"

He didn't miss the hesitant look his two best friends exchanged.

"Well," Ron started, "Dobby was rambling and we don't know if we actually got it right…"

"But we think the Headmaster might have asked him to…" Hermione paused for a moment as if looking for the right word, "protect you."

Harry bristled immediately at that. He thought back at how fast the trey of sandwiches had appeared after Ron had voiced his hunger. He also remembered the previous morning, when a book he had forgotten in the common room had popped in his hands only a few seconds after he had berated himself about it. Dobby had seemed conveniently ready, suspiciously so, in those occasions and in a few more of the past week.

"He did!" he said with certainty. "How… how could he? I don't need people protecting me!"

Hermione looked down pointedly at his and Dobby's injuries.

"Clearly."

He blushed and only partially because of embarrassment. He was about to say how that had been only an accident but caught himself before he could. That argument had been Dresden's after destroying the burn. He didn't want to repeat it if he could help it. He didn't want to concede the point either, though

"This is practically spying, anyway!" he retorted. "What gave him the right to do something like this?"

"Harry," the girl said reasonably, "think about it. He asked Dobby to do it. He's our friend-"

"Practically your worshipper," Ron cut in.

"He isn't using him to spy on you," she resumed after glaring briefly at the red-head. "He just needed someone to keep you safe, especially considering your situation."

The irony of Dobby, of all people, keeping him safe wasn't lost to Harry, but he wasn't in the mood to laugh.

"What do you mean, my situation?" he said with a frown.

"I mean your dimensional travel," she said. "We knew there was the chance of it happening again, and if we're not guessing wrong, it did."

"So?" he asked, neither confirming nor denying.

"So, I may not know what happens in Dresden's world, but I know what happens here." She walked up to him and took his hands in hers, looking very upset. "You… you just collapse, Harry. You just fall asleep and don't wake up, and thrash around in the bed and don't respond in any way! You are… helpless. Ron and I, and Professor Dumbledore too… we can't do anything to help your mind when it's in that world. But at least we can keep your body safe here, until your return." She let out a shuddering breath, staring at him intensely, and he had to look away before the Soulgaze could start. "I think that's what the Headmaster asked Dobby to do. To protect your body when you can't."

"Shielding you from magical explosions included," Ron quipped quietly.

Harry let out a quick breath, not quite an amused sound. He looked down at Dobby, snoring gently on the bed and squeezed Hermione's hands for another long second before letting go. He understood where the girl was coming from and appreciated her for it. But that didn't mean he agreed with her.

"I don't want anyone to come to harm for my sake," he said quietly but firmly. "This was the last time I risked experimenting with Dresden magic with someone around. Not with that kind of stuff, anyway."

Hermione huffed in frustration at that.

"So the next time around there won't be anyone to help you!"

The boy-who-lived shrugged.

"Better than waking up to find one of my friends hurt." He looked intently at the girl. "No. I have no intention of putting you in danger any more than I already have."

"It's our choice, Harry. You know we-"

"Drop it, Hermione," he interrupted her seriously. "I'm not going to change my mind on this."

She was about to reply heatedly when the door to Madam Pomfrey's office swung open and the school matron stepped out of it with a small frown on her face and a cup of tea in her hands.

"What's all this ruckus in my Infirmary?" she said dangerously and Hermione glanced once at her before shifting the glare towards the boy-who-lived.

"This isn't over," she murmured.

"It is," was his final reply as he turned to the newcomer.

"I see you're back with us, Mr. Potter," the school matron said, sounding resigned. "Would you like to explain what exactly happened to you, or are you just going to sprout the same nonsense as your friends and the Headmaster did?"

Patient looked at nurse and bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. "Same nonsense, ma'am."

The woman looked about ready to roll her eyes. She refrained from doing so at the last moment and approached him, setting her cup on Dobby's nightstand before leading Harry back to his own bed. He tried to stay quiet while she examined him with her wand but his eyes shifted to the house-elf lying nearby.

"Madam Pomfrey?" he called. "Is Dobby alright?"

"He's fine," she said distractedly as she studied the results of her spells. "He will sleep until tomorrow, I imagine – calming draughts have a stronger effect on house-elves than wizards – then he will be as good as new."

The young Gryffindor let out a relieved breath, feeling completely reassured now. "Thank you, ma'am."

She didn't deign him of an answer, continuing to swish her wand left and right.

"It appears everything's back to normal, somehow," she said eventually with a tone that implied she had already suspected it. She started unwrapping his bandages with an expert use of her wand. "Your hands should be fine as well. There. Perfectly healed, Mr. Potter. You're discharged."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said again, checking his fingers. "And sorry for… well, for being here so often."

Madame Pomfrey didn't quite smile but her expression changed so drastically that it was impossible not to realize she felt somewhat pleased.

"Try not to end up here anymore this year and maybe I'll forgive you," she said, abruptly letting go of his hands and walking away. "I'll be in my office if you need me. Good night."

She disappeared in the next room and closed the door behind her.

"It wasn't so bad, was it?" the boy-who-lived commented, before Hermione could round on him once again and resume the argument.

"She must have kept half of Dobby's calming draught for herself," Ron said with a grin, before clapping his hands once. "So, can _you_ tell us now what exactly happened?" He asked with a pointed look at Hermione who frowned before rolling her eyes. He wanted the discussion to move on as well, it seemed, and the girl looked like she might concede it to them. "You went… _there_, right?"

"Yeah. It seems like Dumbledore was right about why I end up in Dresden's world. His magic had just backfired like mine had." He snorted as he tossed the covers out-of-the-way and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "He burnt down Ebenezar's barn."

"Who?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"Ebenezar McCoy. His new mentor of sorts." Harry smiled a little. "Great wizard. He taught me... well, Dresden... well me too, a lot."

"What did he say about you crossing over into their world?" Hermione asked, sounding very interested, almost eager. "Do they know something more about it? Maybe in their dimension it's more common than here, or at least studied."

In the past week, she had tried to hide her disappointment at the scarceness of the Hogwarts' library on the subject but it sounded pretty clear by her tone of voice now. He smiled a little before shaking his head at the question.

"This is the oddest thing," he said. He couldn't help but feel stunned as he thought about it, even though he had tried to digest it as soon as he had discovered it. "They don't know."

"Don't tell me Dresden didn't tell anyone about-"

"No Hermione, you don't get it," Harry interrupted her. "_They_ don't know. Dresden doesn't remember a thing."

A shocked silence reigned over the deserted Infirmary of Hogwarts for a long moment.

"He doesn't remember?" Ron repeated eventually.

"Has he amnesia?" Hermione followed, earning herself a puzzled look from the redhead.

"No, anything like that... He just… he doesn't remember what happened when I was there. He doesn't even know I _was_there!" He thought about how oddly vague the boy's memories were. "It's all just a blur to him. He thinks he fought and killed He Who Walks Behind, for example, but the details of the how are fuzzy at best. He thinks he's talked with him but remembers very little of the actual conversation."

"Wow," Hermione commented, shocked. "I-I didn't expect that."

"Neither did I," he agreed. He had taken it for granted, Dresden knowing about him, and instead… "All the time I was in control, he's been in that dark place I told you about. Remember? The one I went to when he took back possess of the body while under Elaine's binding?"

Ron frowned thoughtfully. "No senses, only emotions. That place, right?"

The boy-who-lived nodded. "Pretty much. But it worked somewhat differently for him. Maybe because he was the one possessed, I don't know, but it masked my presence to him or something. It never even crossed his mind that someone might have controlled him."

"And the missing bits in his memory?" Hermione wanted to know. "How does he explain that?"

"Mostly by blaming blows to the head – I used that excuse myself in front of Bob when I was there – and someone suggested Justin's messing with his mind with the enthralling spell."

"Speaking about it…" Ron started a little hesitantly. "What happened to him? And Elaine? Did the White Council…"

Harry bit his lip hard and looked away. "There were… problems."

His friends glanced at each other worriedly.

"Did Dresden decide not to call the Wardens?" Hermione tried after a few seconds of silence.

"Did he escape?" was Ron's guess, instead.

Another long minute passed and no one said a word.

"Harry?" the girl eventually called.

The boy-who-lived didn't raise his gaze.

"They're dead," he said in a very small voice. "Both of them."

He could practically feel their confusion at those words. He had told them what Bob had explained to him and they were expecting Justin and Elaine to be dead, so… what were these _problems_?

A long sigh escaped Harry's lips as he decided to explain.

"Not long after I returned here," he started, looking up at them, "Justin woke up."

Ron's brow furrowed. "Hadn't you…"

"Stunned him, yes. I had." He shook his head slowly. "I don't know what happened. Maybe he had some kind of protection or me coming back to our world weakened the magic, I don't know."

"What happened then?" Hermione urged him when it seemed like he was stuck once again.

"They fought," the boy-who-lived said. "Justin burned with the lab." He stopped again, working against the lump in his throat. "So did Elaine."

Hermione's eyes glistened immediately while Ron's face got grim.

"That sucks, mate," he said quietly while she reached out to take Harry's hands in hers.

"Harry, you _need _to keep this in perspective!" she said firmly but her voice shook all the same. "Don't you dare think – not even for an instant! – that you killed them! It was Dresden! It's awful to say it and I feel sick for doing it but I know you! And I won't let you take the blame for it! You can't-"

"Calm down, Hermione!" he interrupted, half-bemused and half-amused by her tirade. "I know that. Honest," he added when she continued looking at him in concern. "I'm just a bit upset by how things went and… well, I feel very bad for Dresden. Even if it was self-defence with Justin and sort of… _collateral damage_ with Elaine, he still caused the death of the two most important people in his life."

Harry reassured his friend by gripping her hands more firmly. He stared at an imprecise point between her eyes and nodded his head sharply. The bushy-haired girl let out a shuddering breath, patted his hands once more and released them, leaning back on her chair wearily as if the movement had tired her completely.

"Poor Dresden," she whispered. "I can't imagine how he took it."

"Yeah," Harry said quietly.

"He must feel so guilty…"

The boy-who-lived fought to stop the involuntary wince that fought to creep to his face as he nodded. He had lied to her. In all honesty, Dresden's memories were affecting him much more than he had let on, and even though he didn't blame himself for what the American boy had ended up doing, he couldn't shake off the guilt for _not _doing enough when he had been confronting Justin himself. Bob's voice continued looping in his ears, asking him if it wasn't better if he chained down the two unconscious traitors. His dismissing answer about them not waking up anytime soon overlapped continuously with that, and he started to feel sick.

Hermione was right.

He was seriously fucked up.

"How is he holding up?" Ron asked quietly.

"Dresden?" Harry took a deep breath as he thought about it for a moment. "A bit better now. Ebenezar is good people."

He saw Hermione frown at the phrase but she didn't comment on it. "What happened exactly?"

"Well, the Wardens _did_ arrive eventually, alerted by something Justin tried before going down," he explained. "It turns out that the first of the Seven Laws of Magic is 'Thou Shalt Not Kill'."

It took Hermione a second to realize what that implied, but she eventually did, gasping. "They didn't!"

Harry smiled bitterly. "Yeah, just one more thing we have in common now. There was a trial. Dresden almost had his head chopped instead of his wand snapped, though, but he got off eventually, thanks to a self-defence clause. Still, he's on probation right now, something they call Doom of Democles. Next time he puts a toe out of line he'll be executed. No excuses, no trial. There will not be a third chance." He tried to shrug off their horrified looks and his own sickness by keeping on rambling. "They all have these big swords, you know, and there's this German bloke, Morgan... he's at least a hundred-year-old but he's built like a gladiator and he carries one around at all times, constantly shadowing Dresden just to make sure he remembers how close to his own death he really is."

"Harry, I'm so sorry!" Hermione whispered in his ear as she hugged him again. He hugged her back after a moment of hesitation, finding her physical presence to be quite soothing. "That's so unfair!"

He smiled a little at her frustrated voice and at Ron's uncomfortable look beyond her shoulder. She released him but this time sat next to him on the bed instead of going back to her chair.

"I know. But he's safe as he can be now, at least. The White Council sent him to live with Ebenezar McCoy, and..." The boy-who-lived took a deep breath, forcing the most upsetting matters aside. "And he taught Dresden - and me! - so much! About what magic really is and how it should be used..." He looked at his friends with intensity. "I was looking at it all wrong!"

"You have to tell us everything!" Hermione said, managing to sound excited even through her shaky voice. "About Ebenezar, the White Council-"

"And Bob," Ron interrupted with a grin. "How's Bob?"

Harry smiled too in thinking about the bleached white human skull now hidden under layers and layers of spells in Dresden's personal cupboard in Hog Hollow. The American had managed to retrieve and hide the air-spirit before the arrival of the Wardens at the burnt down lab, but taking him with him before leaving for Missouri had been very tricky with the suspicious escort he had been given.

"Bob's fine. Horny as usual."

Ron chuckled at that. "Yes, but now Dresden is his master. I bet he let him go somewhere nice, like public female toilets or those muggle strip-clubs."

Hermione had already scowled at the word 'master', but she positively glowered by the end of Ron's comments. She made a disgusted click with her tongue and glared at Harry too when she saw his grin.

"Not yet. There's literally nothing within ten miles from where he and Dresden live now," the boy-who-lived explained. "But there was this brief encounter in the cornfield near the house with a young countrywoman..."

"Details!" Ron prompted, smiling from ear to ear.

"Later," Harry said, glancing sheepishly at Hermione as he jumped out of bed. "How long was I out?"

"Hmmm… couple of hours, give or take," the red-head replied.

"Really? That's odd…" the boy-who-lived murmured. "I've only been in Dresden's world for a couple of minutes."

"That _is_ strange," Hermione agreed. "What happened exactly, anyway?"

"Nothing much. I woke up laid down on the grass with Ebenezar shaking me. I guess he was the one to get Dresden out of the burning barn, because the last thing he remembered was being hit on the head by something after losing control of the evocation of fire. I stayed there for a couple of minutes, got a scolding and a lecture by the man and then came back here."

Hermione mumbled noncommittally before speaking up. "Maybe you arrived there when he wasn't conscious. Wasn't the first time you crossed over immediate?"

Harry pondered this for a long second until something clicked inside his brain.

"You know, now that I think about it, it makes perfect sense." He narrowed his eyes with a frown as he tried to remember. "I think… no, I'm _sure_ I heard Ebenezar's voice calling my name… well, calling _Harry_, before passing out myself when my own evocation backfired. And I felt Dresden's power too for an instant around me. I thought I had still been here when I passed out, but since my eyes were closed, I just hadn't realized I had already crossed over."

"That would explain why you stayed there only 'a couple of minutes'," Ron said. "You didn't. You were simply out of it most of the time."

The boy-who-lived eventually shrugged.

"It seems likely," he said. His stomach took that moment to grumble its hunger loudly, and he couldn't help but blush slightly. "Uhm... is dinner over already?"

Ron drew his wand and waved it around quickly.

"Not quite yet," he said after watching the result of his tempus charm, sounding intrigued by the half-formed offer. "We could still make it."

Hermione chastised him with a glare. "No, we can't. Sit down, Harry. Professor Dumbledore told us to wait for him here and that's what we'll do."

"Oh, come on, Hermione!" the red-head huffed. "He just woke up from that comma thing and he's clearly hungry!"

"It's _coma_, Ron," the girl corrected. "And you're not fooling anyone with that. It's you who are hungry… like you are all day!" Her tongue cliqued loudly. "We stay here."

"Dumbledore won't say anything if we just go to the Great Hall to eat. It's where we were supposed to be right now in the first place!"

"No, it's not. We're supposed to stay in the Infirmary. He will be here in a minute, anyway. Don't worry, you won't die if you avoid stuffing your mouth like a pig for tonight."

"And you won't drop dead on the spot if you just _don't care _about a rule for once in your life! And such a stupid one, too! We're not going to murder anyone!"

Harry listened to the familiar bickering between his two best friends with a smile on his face. It was good to be back, he couldn't deny it, but his mind continued drifting inevitably to Dresden's world and the latest events that had taken place around the American wizard. Something in particular was nagging at him with relentless insistence and the boy-who-lived frowned as he thought about it.

"Hermione," he called eventually, "you study Latin, right?"

His friends' bantering stopped abruptly at the sudden question and the girl turned completely towards him.

"Yes," she said. "Why?"

Harry bit his lip nervously before continuing.

"Could you translate a sentence for me?"

It was something that had bothered him since he had woken up. Dresden's trial by the White Council was one of the most upsetting experiences he had ever had, even if he had lived it through a third party, and its memory just wouldn't leave him alone. He couldn't shake it out of his head, the fear, the helplessness, the anger, all of them incredibly intense but at the same time barely shadows of what the American wizard had felt at the time. A brief piece of the trial's ending was looping in his mind with stubborn insistence.

"Probably," she said confidently. "What is it?"

He looked at her.

"Alright, but don't mind my pronunciation. My only experience with Latin is relative to some spells, but those hardly help here. And there were so many voices speaking at the time that I'm not sure I heard it right."

And still, he could hear that defiant cry deafening his ears and shutting up the trial room as if he was still kneeling there, a black hood covering his eyes.

Except that _he_ had _never_ been there, a voice whispered in his head, but he ignored it.

"The sentence is 'pro eo spondeo'," he said, struggling to repeat them as precisely as he could

"Oh, that's quite easy," Hermione said immediately. "It's pretty common in basic translations of juridical records. It just means 'I vouch for him'."

Harry mulled it in his head for a couple of seconds and a small smile soon appeared on his lips.

Ebenezar…

"Skipped out the trial, my ass," he said quietly, snorting. He then started making its way to the Infirmary doors. "Come on. I want to get something to eat before dinner is over."

"But the Headmaster-"

"The Headmaster can wait," he said dismissingly. Despite Hermione's good points, he was still a little peeved with Dumbledore about putting Dobby on his heels, but he made a mental note to himself to go visit the house-elf the next morning, to have a long chat with him if nothing else.

He crossed the Infirmary and opened the doors leading outside, a smile on his face as his friends resumed their familiar banter even as they followed him.

* * *

It was late at night when Harry stumbled tiredly into his dormitory. Dumbledore had kept him up in his office for a very long time after dinner, and when he had finally joined his friends in the common room, they had just finished the homework he had yet to begin. They had been kind enough to leave their notes for him to… uhm, _use_, but they had gone to sleep before he was done.

Silently stepping inside the room, the boy-who-lived pulled out his wand and used it to make some light in the dark. The curtains around his mates' beds were all drawn shut and snoring of various degrees of intensity resonated from beyond them. It was really loud, even though not nearly as much as the Headmaster's office sometimes was. The portraits there were ridiculously noisy when they feigned sleep and ridiculously _nosy _when they didn't.

Thinking back at it, his last conversation with the Headmaster had gone better than he had expected. He had admittedly stepped into Dumbledore's office with a ready-to-do-battle kind of attitude, but the old wizard had a way to mellow the rougher edges off people, generally, and Harry had returned to the Gryffindor tower with something of an understanding with the man. He had probably granted more than what he had gained, overall, but it wasn't like his concessions had been against his own interest, really. Even as he had told Hermione, a big part of him _knew_ he could use more than a little help, and cutting himself off his friends and allies wasn't a good way to accomplish that. Especially Dumbledore. Harry would have to be a fool to refuse his help, particularly on the basis of '_you could get hurt_', which didn't really make sense. He was Albus freaking Dumbledore, for Christ's sake!

Shaking his head a little, the boy-who-lived crossed the dormitory to his bed and approached his trunk. Unfastening the brass latches quickly, he raised the lid and started rummaging inside.

Sirius' gift was at the very bottom of it. Harry's hand closed around the badly wrapped package and pulled it out from under crumpled robes and spare notebooks. He tore the paper quickly and stared in wonder at the small, square mirror now in his hand. It looked very old and terribly dirty but the note scribbled on the reverse side was definitely new. He hungrily drank his godfather's handwriting with his eyes before climbing up on the bed and shutting the curtains. After a murmured silencing charm, he raised the mirror in front of his face, smiled like an idiot and called.

"Sirius!" His own excited reflection was contagious even as nothing happened immediately. "Black! Sirius Black!"

"Harry?"

The man's voice practically made his heart skip a beat for the joy.

"Harry? Are you okay? What happened?"

The boy-who-lived grinned brightly as his reflection was replaced by the worried expression of his godfather.

"Is everything okay?" the man asked again, but calmed down at the happiness on his godson's face.

"Yes, Sirius," Harry Potter said. "Everything's going to be alright."

* * *

Author's notes – Now that you're here.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

"That was... intense," Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington said, tilting his head to the side. He observed the young Gryffindor in front of him with an interested look on his face. "What kind of magic was that?"

Harry Potter smirked briefly, calming his slightly accelerated breath. "Intense magic."

The ghost just nodded in his direction as if to concede a point. He raised a translucent hand and brought it up carefully against the invisible screen apparently separating him from the rest of the world.

"It feels warm," he commented, looking down at the glimmering stones of the summoning circle currently restraining him. He made a low, noncommittal sound before expressing his opinion on the matter in a single word. "Fascinating."

"It is quite fascinating indeed," Albus Dumbledore agreed from his seated position behind his desk. He tinkered a little with a small golden instrument in his hands before putting it back down on his desk. "The tracer did not detect any unauthorized energy."

The boy-who-lived smiled brightly at that, honestly pleased by the discovery. According to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, if this new device was oblivious to Dresden magic, then odds were those at the Ministry would be as well.

The summoning spell hadn't been very difficult or tiring, but it was nothing more than the first step, the appetizer, in a manner of speaking. The precautionary test had been made and what was left to do was kicking up the ante and getting to the real deal.

The summoning of a demon.

Sure, Sir Nicholas had hardly the spiritual power of one – at least according to what Dresden had learnt from Justin – and he had also been _advised_ by Professor Dumbledore not to resist the magic, but Harry wasn't worried. He was positive he could do it. Hell, he had _killed_ an uber-demon, an Outsider! Surely he could summon a lesser one…

Of course, that was if demons even _existed _in his world. That was the biggest question mark in the equation. Did they exist like they did in Dresden's world? What about Faeries? Was there even a Nevernever out there? And how could it be possible that Albus Dambledore had never stumbled upon anything even remotely similar in over a hundred and fifty years of life? He was friend and ally with many magical creatures, after all, some of them considered beings of the Nevernever in Dresden's dimension, and he had categorically ruled out the possibility they could have hidden something like that to him.

Harry really didn't know what to think and had yet to muster up the courage to try and find out these answers. He didn't know what to expect. His worried mind had come up with so many different and disastrous scenarios that the simple thought of opening a pathway to the spiritual world made him sweat cold.

In the end, he had talked about it with the Professor who had convinced him to try the most harmless course of action conceivable. After thinking it over for almost a week, Harry had finally admitted that summoning a being from the Nevernever to the relatively secure confines of a circle would be the safest choice, safer than tearing a hole in the barrier between worlds in any case. And strangely enough, at least to Dumbledore's eyes, said 'being' had to be a demon. Not a little fae, or a weak shade, or intangible spirit, but a full-fledged, physically-monstrous, inherently-evil demonic creature, simply because Dresden's teacher had never bothered with anything less. That meant that the only Name – capital N – Harry knew and could use for the summoning of a being of the Nevernever was one belonging to a hellish resident of Down Below.

Exception made for Lea, but the boy-who-lived didn't intend to go down that road. Yet, at least…

Getting the demon into the mortal world wouldn't be exactly a walk in the park, nor a pleasant social-call, but Harry's mind was set and there wasn't much that could change it. Since the Headmaster had come up with nothing useful on the subject of alternate dimensions after his research, then he _needed_to find information somewhere else. And what better place than the admittedly not-so-friendly but supposedly closest and easiest-to-access world of Demons?

Harry Potter grimaced. It was no wonder Dumbledore wasn't all that convinced.

"I trust no one witnessed your disappearance," the Professor was saying in the meantime, looking at Sir Nicholas with serious eyes.

"Of course not, Headmaster," the translucent figure replied. "I did right as you told me and stayed well away from my fellow ghosts in the castle."

The old wizard worked his hand through his white beard. "And how do you feel? Did the summoning harm or tire you?"

Sir Nicholas exhaled slowly, his eyes shifting to Harry. "Yes, I'm definitely tired. I can feel Mr. Potter's pressure keeping me trapped inside this circle and I can't seem to be able to stop fighting it, although it seems useless for now."

Harry exchanged a brief look with his Professor before nodding.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, standing up from his chair and walking behind his young student. "Now Sir Nicholas, I ask you to try to reach freedom from young Harry's grasp with all your might. But please, stop your efforts the instant you feel like you cannot continue any longer."

During this explanation, the Gryffindor ghost hadn't moved his eyes from Harry, an odd look of wonder on his pale face. He then bowed slightly in his direction and brought his hands up against the invisible barrier once again. He poked at it with an interested expression, making a tiny portion of its surface appear with a glimmer, before pushing with both palms.

Immediately, Harry felt a force acting against him and had to renew his efforts to stop the summoned ghost from bursting free. He pushed out his will with determination and firmness, drawing it from his annoyance at being caught slightly off guard despite the warning. He fought the pressure building up from inside the circle as sweat started pearling his scarred forehead, and forced himself to ignore the strained scream escaping Sir Nicholas' lips. He started gaining ground soon and watched as the ghost's figure slowly shrank as his will increasingly deflated, until it stopped struggling completely and with just a little push he couldn't feel any presence inside the circle anymore.

He blinked his eyes, panting slightly and stumbling back against Dumbledore. The old wizard quickly led him to an armchair.

"Sit down, my boy," he said, gently urging him down and producing a glass of water out of nowhere. "Did the banishing work as intended?"

"Yes," Harry said, gratefully accepting the cool drink. He gulped it down quickly and waited for his breathing to calm down. "I just sent him back. He should be all right."

"And are you?"

The young Gryffindor shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, it wasn't all that tiring. A ghost's will is generally weak as far as spiritual beings go. I'll just need a bit more of juice for when we'll give the demon a go."

The Headmaster raised his eyebrows in confusion. "I'm sorry, juice? Should I ask a house-elf to bring some from the kitchens?"

"What? No!" The boy-who-lived snorted, amused. "I meant… I'll just need more energy. I meant power."

"Oh." Dumbledore nodded his understanding. "You will have to forgive an old man such as myself, Harry. I'm afraid I am not as informed as I would like to be about today's youth expressions and phrases."

Harry couldn't help but frown a little at that.

"It's not your fault, sir," he admitted. "It wasn't as much a 'youth' thing rather than a muggle and an American one. Hermione and Ron tell me I've started using odd says and sentences recently. It's been like this ever since my first dimensional travel. The funny thing is I don't even realize it when I do." He shook his head with a sigh. "And was it just words choices…"

The Professor put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"What is it that bothers you, my boy?"

The young Gryffindor hesitated for a moment before speaking up.

"I mean... it isn't just what I say, or how. Sometimes I can't immediately tell if a memory is really mine or if it's Dresden's, until I focus on where it's set and who is involved. The other day I was in the common room and I was halfway through the story of how I had dislocated my shoulder when I realized it had happened to _him_." He sighed exasperatedly, not bothering to retell his Headmaster about the distraction that had cost him his second trip to Dresden Land. "And for the love of me, I can't remember which of us stole a candy from a shop on the way home from primary school!"

The old wizard smiled slightly at that, though Harry tried to wipe it away with a dark glare. He had stood up at some point of his rant and had started pacing the office.

"It's annoying," he finished, standing beside Fawkes and petting the feathers on his back with not exactly gentle strokes. The phoenix made an irritated sound and forced Harry's hand away with a practiced use of his beak.

"I imagine it could be," the Professor said.

"And it's not just that either!" he continued hotly, storming to the window. "I'm… I'm not who I was a month ago! I'm… changing. My behaviour, my personality or whatever! Even Ron has realized it. I notice things that wouldn't have attracted my attention if they had been on _fire_ before all this mess happened, and I act oddly where women and girls are concerned." He tossed his hands in the air in a frustrated gesture. "I held the door for Pansy freaking Parkinson the other day!"

"I see," Dumbledore said seriously. "That must have been quite embarrassing."

"Yeah!" Harry agreed quickly before thinking that maybe the old wizard was actually mocking him. He stared at him suspiciously and the man eventually stopped restraining his smile. "You're making fun of me," the young Gryffindor accused a second later.

He sat down grumpily as his Professor sighed quietly.

"My dear boy," he started, opening his arms widely, "I fail to see what is so distressing about being a gentleman with the ladies."

Harry shook his head and snorted despite himself at the man's choice of words. He resumed frowning soon enough, though.

"It's not like me," he grumbled while rubbing his scar. "It's not _me_."

Everyone was silent for a long second, even the portraits of the past Headmasters who usually couldn't keep their mouth shut at all. When Dumbledore spoke up again, he was looking at him with a sad, almost nostalgic expression in stead of the amused one of before.

"Of course it is you, Harry," he said gently. "Changes are a part of growing up."

"It's just Dresden influencing me," the young Gryffindor rebuked, almost growling.

"Yes, I will not deny that." The old wizard returned to his seat behind the desk and eased his back on the comfortable leather chair. "But that is precisely how we all change. Something appears which influences our opinion, our way of thinking, our very being. Whether it is a moving book, an upsetting experience... even a whole set of new memories." He opened a drawer from his desk and pulled out a simple wooden box from it. "They come in contact with you and slowly become _part _of you. They inevitably change who you are."

The boy-who-lived raised his head and met the man's eyes. He was forcefully reminded of two crystal blue puddles and hundreds of people altering their waters by stepping into them. That wasn't very dissimilar to what Dumbledore was saying at the moment, Harry thought, wondering not for the first time what the Soulgaze had showed on the other side. The Headmaster had never offered an explanation and he had never asked for one. And it was probably best that way.

The Professor smiled again and opened the square box with steady hands. A second later, he produced a lemon drop from it and put it on the desk in front of his student.

"At that point," he resumed, "it hardly matters whether it was you who stole that candy or not. What matters is... would you steal it now?"

Harry thought about it for a long while under the murmurs of agreement of the portraits all around. He stared hard at the lemon drop, reflecting about his Headmaster's words and slowly accepting them. They made sense, in Dumbledore's quirky way.

When he finally raised his gaze up to meet the man's eyes, he felt more relaxed than in weeks, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

He left the lemon drop where it was.

"Thank you, sir," he said quietly, seeing the usual grandfather-like smile making its way through the Professor's face.

"You are quite welcome, Harry," was the other's reply. "Now, I think it is time for us to rest for the night. Tomorrow should be quite an interesting day – St. Valentine's _and_ Hogsmeade weekend."

The boy-who-lived didn't like where the conversation was going at all. When he saw the twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes, he could only groan and put his face in his hands.

"You know about it too?"

"Of course. Your date with Ms. Chang is one of the most discussed topics circulating around the castle, after all."

The young Gryffindor just shook his head. "I'd never have thought you listened to Hogwarts' rumours, sir."

"Some times I do not need to…" Dumbledore replied at once, smiling amusedly, "when I start them."

* * *

"About time!"

The happy cry coming from beside him made Harry Potter lower his eyes from the flying owls delivering letters overhead to his female best friend sitting next to him. There was no trace of Hedwig anyway, while Hermione was avidly scanning the piece of parchment clutched in her hands.

"What are you-" he started over the confusion of the Great Hall, only to be immediately interrupted by the excited girl.

"Harry, this is really important," she said breathlessly. "Can you meet me at the Three Broomsticks around midday, today?"

The young Gryffindor winced slightly, his eyes wandering on their own towards the Ravenclaw table. "I don't know. It depends on how my date goes, I guess."

"You can bring Cho along if you must, just be there."

"What is this all about, anyway?" Harry wanted to know.

"I... there's no time to explain. I have to answer this quickly," she said, waving the piece of parchment in her hands. "Will you come?"

Harry deliberately ignored her in favour of turning to Ron. "Do you know what this is all about?"

The young Weasley shook his head. "No clue."

"Harry!" Hermione called in annoyance. "Answer me!"

The boy-who-lived just picked up the nearest water jug and slowly poured himself a glass. "You know, you probably could have already told me in the meantime."

"You're such a stubborn prat some times," she huffed irritably. She shifted her eyes around guardedly for a moment before leaning towards her friends. "I asked Luna's father if he would be okay with printing the story of Voldemort's return in his magazine. He agreed." She showed them the letter. "This is from the reporter who will interview you. I have to tell her where and when to meet us. Do you want to do that, Harry? Do you want to tell the magical world what the truth really is?"

"On the Quibbler?" Ron asked skeptically.

"What other options do we have?" she whispered harshly at once. "The Daily Prophet has been printing lies and calumnies the whole year! I say we better let them hear our version instead of just staying quiet."

Ron seemed to be seriously thinking about it as he stuffed a sausage in his mouth.

"You know what? This could work," he said when he had swallowed. "This could definitely work. I'm all for it."

Hermione seemed pleased as she turned towards Harry. "What do you think?"

The boy-who-lived stared intently at her, pondering the idea. His eyes shifted around the Great Hall, watching as dozens of Daily Prophets were opened and read by the Hogwarts' populace, certainly filled with such useless news that would have made him laugh if he had still bothered to look at it. He couldn't help but glance at Umbridge and the smile on her face almost made him gag.

He turned towards Hermione again.

"Okay," he told her seriously. "Let's do it."

The words were barely out of his mouth that the girl shot up from her seat and ran out of the room, her parting words about seeing him at the Three Broomsticks at twelve still hovering in the air. Ron just shook his head and ate another sausage.

"Mental," he said, distractedly.

"You'll be there, Ron, right?" Harry asked a bit self-consciously. Now that he had agreed, he was starting to feel uncomfortable at the idea of giving an interview.

The young Weasley put down his fork. "Can't."

"Why?"

"Angelina wants a full-day training." He shook his head, looking glum. "Like that is going to help..."

"Of course that is going to help!" Harry said irritably, raising his voice a little. It still grated him that he couldn't play anymore because of Umbridge's ban, and seeing Ron depressed about playing annoyed him a little. "You're a good keeper, just be confident about it."

"Yeah, right," Ron said, but he didn't sound like he believed that at all.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! I know Quidditch and I'm good at it. Why can't you believe me when I say you're good?"

"You just say that because we're friends," Ron huffed.

"I'm friends with Hermione too and I have no problem in telling her she sucks on a broom!"

He made a face almost immediately upon uttering those words and Ron picked up on them too.

"That didn't come out right," the red head said, grinning at the boy-who-lived's blush before going back to his sulking. "But, anyway, of course you can tell her that since it's just undeniable."

Harry drew a calming breath and shook his head.

"Just believe me, okay? You're good, and with training you can become very good." Their eyes met for a dangerous second before Harry lowered his gaze to an indeterminate freckle on Ron's nose. "I have to go now. When I come back, I want to know exactly how the training with Angelina went, alright?"

He stood up and walked away, pleased to notice that his friend's shoulders seemed definitely less tense than before.

A quick trip to the bathroom later, Harry was stepping into the Entrance Hall. Cho was already waiting for him in front of the doors leading outside, and as he approached her, he could feel a warm blush rising on his face. He couldn't help one quick glance at the bare portion of legs under her Hogwarts' uniform and one at her soft-looking lips moving as she greeted him.

"Hi," she said almost breathlessly.

"Hi." He forced a smile, feeling wild butterflies rampaging inside his stomach again. "You look very pretty today."

A small blush crept to her face. "T-thanks."

"Uhm... shall we go?"

"Oh, yes."

They joined the line of students ready to visit Hogsmeade, signed Filch's scroll and finally stepped outside. The day was breezy, but not very cold, and Harry felt good to walk beside the pretty Ravenclaw under the pale morning sun.

"You know," she started, looking down at her feet. "It really surprised me when you asked me to come to Hogsmeade with you. I thought you didn't want to."

The sentence shocked the boy-who-lived. He had been sure his crush couldn't have been more blatantly obvious than what he had showed. "Why did you think that?"

Cho bit her lower lip in an expression that he could only define as cute. "Do you remember the first day after the Christmas break? I stopped you in the hallway..."

"Yes," he said thinking back to the day. "You wanted to ask me- Oh." He played the scene over and over in his head and could only put his face in his hands, stopping dead on his tracks. "You wanted to ask me out to Hogsmeade." He shook his head. "And instead, I thought you wanted to know about the DA."

He chanced a glance at her and found her with a little smile playing on her lips as she continued walking. "So you really hadn't realized," she said. "I wasn't completely sure..."

"It's just that so many people asked me about the DA that day!" he tried to defend himself but failed miserably to his own ears as well. He groaned depressedly and caught up to her. "You must be thinking I'm the densest wizard in the whole world."

Her smile got a little wider. "The thought might have crossed my mind."

He sighed loudly and scratched the scar on his forehead.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Cho."

"It's okay," she said, smiling a little at him. "You made up for it in the end."

"Yeah," he agreed with a snort, "by asking you while running from Filch."

"That was pretty funny, actually," she admitted, giggling cutely. "It took me a while to connect that to what had happened to Umbridge in the Great Hall." She rounded on him, a large grin lighting up her face. "It was you, right?"

In seeing that enthusiastic expression, Harry would have never found the force to deny. Even if Umbridge had been right there, he would have probably admitted it nonetheless. "Yes."

"I knew it!" she… cheered? "The Weasley twins were too stunned themselves and they usually gloat about their pranks in some way, anyway."

"I was too busy washing the red ink off my hands," he said, "although I was tempted to show them around for a little while."

Cho let out a small chuckle that made his heart skip a beat. "That would have been so Weasley-like."

"Probably," the boy-who-lived admitted. "I just settled for using the same red ink for my Defence essay the next day, instead."

That made Cho laugh longer and the young Gryffindor could hardly think of a more beautiful sound. If this was the result of pranking Umbridge, then he'd devote his whole life to it.

"That was brilliant," she said breathlessly. "And much more Harry Potter-like. A more direct and discreet gloating."

He blushed slightly and didn't raise his eyes to meet hers.

"Is that what you think of me?" he asked her curiously. "That I'm a direct and discreet person?"

She flashed him a smile. "Among other things."

They both turned their heads at the sudden screeching coming from a large group of Slytherin girls walking nearby.

"Potter and Chang," Pansy Parkinson sniggered. "Urgh, Chang, I don't think much of your taste... at least Diggory was good-looking!"

Harry rolled his eyes at her.

"At least I'm good-mannered, unlike some people who shall remain unnamed. And I'm not talking about Voldemort." After everyone's predictable gasp, his smile got a sweet, annoying quality to it. "What? Never heard the name, Parkinson? I think you know him as 'My Lord' from Malfoy's mouth."

She hissed dangerously at him, but the boy-who-lived almost laughed at her poor impression of a snake. "You're just a dirty halfblood. You aren't worth the slime under Draco's boots."

"You know, Pansy? I think you're perfect for each other," he said cheerily, his smile never wavering. "You're not only as pompous and pretentious as him, but your name after marrying him will be just great." He tilted his head to the side, looking up thoughtfully. "Pansy Malfoy. Perfect. It fits you both."

"He's twice the man you are!" she shouted, reddening in anger.

In answer, Harry arched a single eyebrow before producing the most ridiculously outraged expression he could muster.

"How dare you! Wait until Father hears about this! He'll have you expelled!" His expression went back to one of mild amusement after his impersonation. "You're right. I can't think of anything more manly than that. Does he wipe his snot on his own or does he wait for you to come around with a handkerchief?"

Pansy's face had turned purple with rage in the meantime and she clenched and unclenched her hands repeatedly. The girls all around her had all but quieted and were looking at the scene with avid interest.

"How dare you!" she said furiously and Harry didn't even try to hold back his snort. "Take your… your trollop over there and get out of our way, you half-blood, muggle-loving-"

"Careful, Parkinson," Harry said coldly, his eyes narrowed. "Cho is twice the woman _and_ the witch you will _ever_be. I would think it over twice before insulting her, if I were you."

Pansy was practically showing her fangs by that point as she started whispering harshly. "How-"

"Dare I?" the boy-who-lived finished for her.

With one last incomprehensible snarl, the Slytherin girl stomped away, followed more calmly by her group. Harry kept on smiling in their direction until they couldn't possibly see him anymore, then the expression dropped off his face as he frowned in contempt. Part of him still struggled against these kinds of reactions inherited from Dresden, but it couldn't be denied that it felt good to vent some of his everyday's frustration on people who actually deserved it. When he turned around again, it was to see Cho Chang looking at him with a small grin. That too felt good.

"I probably wouldn't have bothered answering to the likes of Parkinson," the pretty Ravenclaw said quietly, "but it was nice of you to defend me."

The boy-who-lived blushed a little.

"Well, I was also defending myself, you know?" he mumbled, shrugging and resuming the walk to feel less like an idiot.

"Well, I appreciated that anyway."

She fell into step with him and they stayed quiet for two endless seconds of silence before she eventually spoke up again.

"Do you remember the first time we flew against each other in third year?"

And that was it. Quidditch took over the scene for the next half an hour or so as they entered Hogsmeade and wandered through the big shops of the magical village. They talked about the World Cup and the Hogwarts' one, about the latest broom that was going out on sale soon and about who in the school could really try out for a professional career after the NEWTs. Not even the topic of the ten escaped Death Eaters or the DA could compete with the huge passion they shared about the wizarding sport.

Harry was positively stunned by how easy it was to speak with Cho. The only conscious effort he had to make was stopping himself from staring at her lips or ogling at her body, but apart from that, it was like talking to Ron or Hermione. The job would get more difficult every time he made the pretty Ravenclaw laugh, but he always felt so entranced by how her chest quivered and how her lips stretched whenever she did that, that he found himself ever so eager to amuse her.

"That cat is evil, I tell you," he was saying with a serious expression, nodding wisely.

"Oh, I don't know. I find Mrs. Norris kind of cute." Cho smiled at Harry's incredulous look.

"When she was petrified, maybe," he rebuked. "Why couldn't we get a competent, deadly Basilisk instead of a half-assed one, anyway?"

The pretty Ravenclaw laughed again, and that, at the moment, was everything Harry desired.

"But then Hermione Granger wouldn't be with us, wouldn't she?" she said more quietly after a moment.

"Nah, she's too smart to die." He walked up to the display window of a bookshop.

"Is she?" Cho asked from behind him as he peered at the moving pictures of the magical bestseller of the moment.

"Yeah." He strengthened up quickly. "Oh, that reminds me. I have to meet her at the Three Broomsticks at midday."

He turned towards Cho in time to see her raise her eyebrows.

"You're meeting Hermione Granger? Today?"

"Yeah." His eyes shifted to the poster of the escaped Death Eaters. "It's… it's something important."

Suddenly, he felt very embarrassed. He didn't want to tell Cho he was going to be interviewed. It would make him sound like a self-obsessed braggart and he was no Lockhart. He had never been comfortable with his fame. Of course, if all went well, Cho would simply find about it once the Quibbler issue was out. It wasn't like it would remain a secret for long, or at least that was the point. But that didn't change anything, as far as he was concerned. He didn't feel like telling her.

"I'm sorry. It came up just this morning and I couldn't postpone it." He shrugged a little, not really looking at her. "Oh, but it shouldn't take very long," he hurried to say. "And I really would like to spend the afternoon with you. If you want to."

She seemed a little embarrassed as she answered. "Y-yes. I'll just have lunch with Marietta and Lisa. We can meet again after that."

"Alright," Harry agreed happily. He quickly steered the conversation to another topic. "So, where do you want to go now? I don't know if Zonko's has anything new for sale, but it could be worth a try."

"What about coffee or tea?" she asked tentatively as raindrops started to occasionally fall on them. "I know of a really nice place just up here. Haven't you ever been to Madam Puddifoot's?"

"I don't think so, no," the dark-haired boy said shaking his head, and Cho smiled brightly.

"Come with me, then."

She took his hand in hers – which almost killed him right there and then – and led him up a side road that Harry had never taken. The teashop they arrived to was cramped, had frills and bows tied all over the place and golden cherubs hovering above small circular tables. There were only couples in there, Harry noticed with a jump of his stomach, and some of them were quite busy apparently eating each other's faces. The boy-who-lived nodded numbly to whatever Cho had just said as he followed her to a free table and sat down.

"What can I get you m'dears?" a stout woman, probably Madam Puddifoot, asked them.

"Two coffees, please," Cho replied after an interrogative look in Harry's direction. The young Gryffindor nodded to her as he finished glaring at the cherub tossing confetti at him. The colourful attack managed to ease his nervousness a little, and even though he continued running his mouth like an idiot, he found himself more calmed than just a few moments before.

"Why is he targeting only me?" he whined, trying to disentangle the offending pieces of paper from his hair. "Not that I wish you were subjected to this kind of treatment either, but this is unfair."

The Ravenclaw giggled cutely, reaching out with her hands and passing her fingers through his hair.

"There," she said with one last pat. "Perfectly messy again."

He hoped there was no blush on his face as he grinned nervously at her. "Thank you."

Their coffees arrived soon after that, and amidst Cho's laughter, Harry managed to get Madam Puddyfoot to reroute the seemingly jammed cherub away from their table. They were relaxing, abusing Umbridge in any verbal way they could, when Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, entered the teashop with his girlfriend. Cho greeted him quietly as they sat at the last remaining free table in the room.

"He asked me out, you know," she eventually said, looking down at her cup. "A couple of weeks ago. Roger. I turned him down, though."

She raised her eyes, searching his, and he avoided contact with practiced experience. Soulgazing his date was probably the last thing the boy-who-lived wanted at the moment.

"Are you regretting it?" he asked with a cheeky smile, while looking at a point between her eyebrows and hoping she wouldn't answer affirmatively.

"No," she said after a moment of painful hesitation. She looked at him seriously. "Do you?"

"What? No! No, no," he blurted out lamely. "Of course not. I'm having a great time with you and... and I can't think of a better place to be right now."

"Except for the Three Broomsticks with Hermione Granger, right?" Cho said, her face assuming an odd expression Harry didn't immediately recognize. It was somewhat familiar and-

He remembered. Elaine. It was exactly – _exactly_ – the face Elaine sported when she and Dresden talked about Patricia Vice, a pretty girl a year behind them who occasionally flirted with the young wizard. He could see the similarities clearly, only with the Ravenclaw's soft features in place of the American's sharp ones. He could only stare at her silently, a hesitant smile slowly creeping to his lips.

"What?" she demanded and it was impossible not to notice her blush.

"You are... you're jealous of Hermione?" he half-asked, partially incredulous and partially amused.

"No!" she shouted hastily, reddening even more. "That's… I'm not!"

"Okay, okay!" Harry raised his hands in a apologizing gesture, but he was still smiling sillily. They stayed in silence for a moment, both of them looking down at their cup. "Anyway, just so you know, Hermione is just a friend to me," he continued quietly. "A good friend, but just a friend. I don't fancy her."

His attention was suddenly attracted by the kissing sounds coming from Roger Davies' table and he momentary stared at him as he literally slobbered over the blonde he had glued to his face.

Harry took the coffee and slurped it down to try and cover his slip, but couldn't quite stop himself from glancing at Cho. He was about to speak up and break the silence when she beat him to it.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you for ages," she said very quietly, and something in her tone made Harry feel really uncomfortable. "Did Cedric…" She took a deep, shuddering breath and struggled to continue. "Did he… how did he…"

Harry's stomach dropped as if he had just swallowed lead. He didn't want to talk about that and immediately felt annoyed at Cho for even bringing it up during their date. But there were unshed tears in her eyes now, and her lower lip was trembling slightly behind a few locks of dark hair that had strayed in front of her face. He couldn't bear seeing such an expression marring the Ravenclaw's features and that had only partially to do with Dresden's chivalrous nature.

He stood up and tried to say something. Then he shut his mouth and fought against the slight lump in his throat. Cho looked even more distraught now that he was staring down at her and he quickly averted his gaze.

"Come with me... if you want to know."

He threw a galleon down onto the table and exited the teashop, not once looking behind his shoulder. The door closed and he found himself in the rain, large, bruising droplets falling on his head. He felt more than saw the door open and close again and Cho come to stand next to him. Then he started walking.

He led her to the Three Broomsticks.

* * *

The sun had just set when Harry Potter and Cho Chang walked back up to Hogwarts. The other students were all making their way to the security of the castle, speaking softly to each other as if to not disturb the peace that had descended around them with the approach of the evening. Even the forest and the lake seemed to keep quiet in order to honour that silence, and only the sporadic cry of a bird and the rippling of water could be heard by the retreating students.

Harry turned to face the lake for a moment, taking a deep breath before closing his eyes. He moved his left hand slightly, pointing it at the water, palm down. The calm, steady energy of the lake acknowledged him with an interested buzz against his fingers. It was fascinating. The Hogwarts Lake, as well as the Forbidden Forest, gave him an incredibly strong vibe when he concentrated on them, unlike any lake or forest Dresden had ever encountered in his world. There was something magical in both of them that not even Professor Dumbledore had been able to explain when he had told him about it. Now, neither of them could even come close to Hogwarts – _feeling_ the castle with his magic had given him a hours-long headache when he had tried – but as something literally _infused_ with magic, that was to be expected.

It was interesting how his wizard senses had grown recently, or possibly grown _accustomed_ to Hogwarts magic, instead of the Dresden kind. The former had turned out even easier to perceive than the latter, strangely enough, and the boy-who-lived had soon realized that the ability worked best if he was familiar with the actual source. By now he could sense his own wand from a dozen feet of distance, for example. It was pretty useful.

"What are you doing?"

Cho's question brought him back to the present. He opened his eyes and turned to her, finding her looking at him with a curious expression.

"Don't you read the Prophet? I'm nut," he said, nodding. "I don't need a reason to do crazy things."

"Seriously," she said giggling slightly. "You had such an odd face, with this little, knowing look…"

"Yeah, well, I was just contemplating the lake." He shrugged, making it evident that he didn't have anything else to say, and she let the matter drop. They shared a moment of companionable silence before she spoke up again.

"Those at the Prophet are the nut ones," she said in a quiet voice. "What you did today was very brave."

She beamed at him even though her eyes were shining with unshed tears. She had cried a lot that afternoon. The interview given to none other than Rita Skeeter had lasted more or less two hours and Cho had been in tears for a good portion of it. Harry hadn't known what to do or say to her so he had just gone on with his answers, not even looking in her direction, but halfway through the story of Voldemort's ritual, he had somehow found her hand in his.

"What was so brave?" the young Gryffindor asked, blushing slightly. "I just told her the truth."

"But we both know what will happen once it's published." She took a step forward, moving very close to him. He forced his body to stay perfectly still and neither bolt away nor rush to her.

"Who reads the Quibbler, anyway?" he said nervously.

"I will," she replied at once. "And I will make sure my friends and family get a copy too." She lowered her head, eyes hidden behind a curtain of black hair. "Thank you for taking me with you. I know it must have been hard."

Harry tried a nonchalant shrug, but it came out more as a short epileptic crisis in his opinion.

_Calm down, idiot_.

"You wanted to know," he said eventually. "It was the right thing to do."

The silence stretched on and on for seconds that felt like hours to the young Gryffindor. He didn't know what to say, and in reality he didn't _want _to say anything. He kept on staring at Cho's lips, so full and red as she bit on them nervously, and for the umpteenth time that day, the urge to kiss her felt almost uncontrollable.

Scratch that 'almost'.

He didn't even have to think about it when he put his hands on her shoulders and leaned towards her.

* * *

When Harry Potter entered Albus Dumbledore's office later that evening, there was a large, silly grin on his face. The Headmaster of Hogwarts looked at him curiously from behind his desk but the young Gryffindor couldn't bring himself to school his features into a straight expression. He plopped down on the other armchair and idly noticed that the man's eyebrows had risen.

"Harry," he said, "you sat on the chalk."

The boy-who-lived blinked his eyes a couple of times before shifting slightly on his seat. The snapping noises coming from the once intact stick of chalk sounded very loudly in the otherwise silent room.

"I knew it?" he half-asked not much convincingly. "I needed smaller pieces, anyway."

"Is everything alright?" the Professor asked him and a little smile started forming on his face as well.

"Yeah," the young Gryffindor said distractedly, extricating the chalk from underneath him. He put three small pieces on the desk.

"I imagine the date with Miss Chang proceeded well, then?" the old wizard said in amusement. His smile got a little wider as Harry blushed slightly. "Ah. I see."

"Can we drop it please?" the boy-who-lived asked, his grin nowhere to be seen now.

"Why? It is perfectly understandable, after all, for a young wizard and a young witch to-"

"Don't finish that sentence!" he said quickly.

Dumbledore smiled amusedly as a long silence fell in the room.

"Did I ever revealed to you how I was convinced that the power the Dark Lord knew not and you possessed was love?" the Headmaster asked eventually.

"What? Really?" Harry snorted. "Did you think I should have loved Voldemort to vanquish him?"

The Professor looked pretty disturbed by the thought for some reasons.

"No, nothing of the sort," he said. "I have long since rethought that theory of mine, though, in light of more recent events."

"Speaking about it," the young Gryffindor started, "aren't we going to do it tonight, finally?"

"I will hardly do anything," the old wizard said, looking at his student with a measuring look. "Do you feel up to it?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, brushing chalks off his hands. "Why do you ask?"

Dumbledore looked pointedly at his increasingly more stained uniform and the boy-who-lived stopped trying to wipe his hands at once. "You appear to be… unfocused."

"I'm fine, sir, don't worry about it," he tried to reassure him.

"Harry, you told me that summoning a demon was a rather difficult 'piece of magic', as you put it." The Professor was looking at him with utmost seriousness now. "I do not want you to put yourself in danger."

"Sorry," the young Gryffindor said, finally with a straight face. "You're right. I need a lot of concentration for this thing. Just give me a second and I'll be ready."

He closed his eyes under his Headmaster's concerned gaze and took a deep breath. Images of one pretty Ravenclaw immediately sprung up in his mind, some coming directly from what had happened during their date while others were simply the result of Harry's rampant imagination. He fought back the silly smile from returning to his face but couldn't help but linger on the memories for one more minute before banishing them from his head.

He focused on the darkness of his eyes-closed world and on the silence surrounding him, throwing fears, worries and desires away and into an isolated corner of his mind. He breathed in and out in a regular rhythm, trying to still his very being in the meantime. When he blinked his eyes open again ten minutes later, the world presented itself to him in perfectly vivid details.

"I'm ready," he told his Headmaster, standing up from the soft armchair. He ignored the pieces of chalk falling from his butt to the ground.

"Your Occlumency has remarkably improved lately," the old wizard said with a nod.

"Thanks to your _real_ lessons, sir," the boy-who-lived replied, putting the littlest emphasis on the world 'real'. In his actual state of mind, he couldn't seem to care all that much about Snape and his teaching methods.

"I severely doubt that is the reason," Dumbledore commented as his student walked up to the glimmering stones on the floor. "I am sure we have Mr. Dresden to thank for this as well. His experience with meditation aided you more than whatever I could do for you in so little time. And some of his techniques seem to be much more suitable to you than mine were."

Harry didn't bother with an answer as he shifted his feet just outside the circle, splaying his legs in a comfortable position. He looked down at the lines of copper interweaving to form a perfect circle and at the colourful gems forming another one on top of it as well. Taking in their faint glow under the light of the candles, he shifted his gaze to the Professor. The man had the materials delivered in record time. It had come as a huge surprise when the old wizard had presented them to him, much sooner than he had expected… much sooner than what _he_had been told was possible.

It appeared that being Albus Dumbledore could give you quite a few advantages.

The old wizard hadn't asked any money in return despite the materials' obvious expensiveness but he had insisted upon making him assemble his circle in his office so that he would always be there _to help_. It had been one of the most important parts of their deal of sorts, together with the termination of Dobby's shadowing assignment and less defined security measures. All in all, it hadn't been that bad. The circle had already been a great help to broaden the range of tests about Dresden magic and Harry was glad he had gained access to it so soon, even if under Dumbledore's supervision.

"It is remarkable how the wizards of Mr. Dresden's world are able to control the power behind Names with such magnitude," the Headmaster mused quietly while Harry drew out his wand and put it on the shelf beside him. "Our kind can only achieve the simplest things with them and the process is so unpractical that it is often considered a waste of time and energy."

If the young Gryffindor hadn't been so concentrated, he would have shrugged his shoulders, probably. "Dresden magic can use Names for pretty much anything, summoning only being one of the most common uses. With a real Name, a wizard can call all that is spiritual, given the right amount of power."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed upon his golden-rimmed spectacles. "All that is spiritual? I was under the assumption you could only summon creatures belonging to the Nevernever."

Harry's eyes shifted to the old wizard in hearing his confused tone.

"Summoning, yes. Well, usually. The Nevernever is the spiritual world," he explained, fully turning towards his thoughtful Headmaster. "And that's where spiritual beings come from, _usually_. It's pretty rare for one to… let's say have a different origin."

"But you could hypothetically summon a spiritual being even if it did not belong to the Nevernever, do I understand it correctly?" Dumbledore asked.

"As long as it's no longer attached to its physical body, yes," the young Gryffindor replied uneasily. The topic was moving in a direction he wasn't exactly comfortable in taking. "I could summon it, track it, empower it, even destroy it... _hypothetically_."

He looked at his Professor and found the twinkle in his eyes more unsettling than usual.

"And souls?" the old wizard pressed on and now he definitely didn't sound like someone asking disinterested questions anymore. "Could it be possible to call such an entity to the circle?"

"Uhm, I doubt it, sir," Harry said nervously, his focus wavering dangerously in front of the uncharacteristically eager Headmaster. "There's no way my magic can reach them wherever they go when their bodies die."

"But suppose… suppose for a moment that these souls were unable to reach their final destination and were… _restrained_ for some reason or another in our world…"

The boy-who-lived started rubbing his neck, now more than a little uncomfortable. Dumbledore was seriously freaking him out now. He was asking questions that were far too specific to represent a simple intellectual curiosity.

"I guess that _technically_, _hypothetically_ it could be done," he started. "But sir, trying to influence death with magic is extremely dangerous, and..." He paused for a moment, searching for the right way to say what he felt. He gave up on trying to maintain his concentration and looked at the old wizard straight into his eyes. "And it's wrong. It's wrong on so many levels."

His focus shattered and he started babbling almost incoherently about how magic came from life and how it was a hideous, almost sacrilegious act to direct it against the same matter from which it came, a soul, but he stopped when the Professor raised a placating hand and seemed to understand where Harry was headed.

"I never intended to ask you such a thing," he said calmly. He almost looked like his normal, granfatherly-self again, but there was a grim glow behind his golden spectacles. "And I am sorry you misinterpreted what I was trying to ask you. If you let me explain from the beginning, it will all be clear in little time."

Silence fell for a long minute despite the man's promise of a clarification. When Harry realized what the Headmaster's expression was actually conveying, he couldn't help the feeling of dread from spreading throughout his body.

Albus Dumbledore looked guilty.

That wasn't a good sign at all.

"I have not been entirely forthcoming with you, Harry," he said and the boy-who-lived could only feel his fear increase as the old wizard looked at him directly in the eyes and sighed.

"I still have to tell you about Voldemort's Horcruxes."


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

"So it turns out Dumbledore was hiding something else from me," Harry Potter said grimly, looking down at the small mirror in his hands from which the lean, almost emaciated face of Sirius Black was staring back at him. "Dumbledore," the boy-who-lived repeated with a straight-face, tensing slightly on the armchair in the Room of Requirement. "Dumbledore was hiding it."

Sirius was just shaking his head in disappointment when he finally realized what his Godson was hinting at. His expression turned outraged and he immediately protested.

"You think I knew it too?" he said in disbelief. "I didn't know, I swear it!"

"That's not what _he_ says," Harry shot back immediately.

"He's lying!" the Marauder practically snarled. "I didn't know a thing about this Horcrux stuff! And see?" he exulted, gesturing wildly at himself with his hands. "I can say it! Horcrux! Horcrux! Bloody Horcrux!" he shouted out loud madly. "It's not like the Pffffffffff! The Pffffffffff!"

The young Gryffindor looked at him dubiously for an instant, and hurt and fear doubled on Sirius' face. Then Harry burst out laughing in glee and the man could only jolt up in surprise at the suddenness of it.

"And to say that I hated that oath," the boy-who-lived choked out breathlessly after a while. "You should see your face when you try to say prophesy, Padfoot. It's frigging hilarious!"

Sirius' reflection looked once again outraged as he understood what was going on. "Oh, you little-"

"Still, Dumbledore could lift it from you now, although I kinda like it." He chuckled some more and the dog-animagus finally relaxed even as he continued glaring at his godson. "He never told me you hid the truth about the Horcruxes from me. I just wanted to be sure."

Sirius growled from beyond the magical mirror.

"And my word about it wasn't enough, was it?" He twisted his mouth into a sour expression. "You know I wouldn't hide anything from you if I wasn't _forced_."

Harry smiled slightly. "I know."

"And what's this about my face being hilarious?" the man asked while tossing his long hair back in a haughty gesture. "Beautiful, charming, glorious, sure. Never hilarious!"

The young Gryffindor chuckled again. "Yeah, right. Whatever you say, Sirius."

The Marauder smiled back before pursing his lips in thought. "So you'll have to find these soul-thingies, right?" He nodded his head. "When are you going to do it?"

"It has to be when both Dumbledore and I are free," Harry said. His tongue clicked in distaste at the mere thought. "Manipulative old coot…"

"Harry," Sirius tried to say reasonably, "I know you're angry with him. I would be too if I were you. But you have to understand-"

"What?" the boy-who-lived interrupted with a snarl. "That he just had my well-being in mind when he hid those things from me? Again? Don't make me laugh, Padfoot!"

"No, I didn't mean that," the man corrected with a glare. "And maybe if you let me finish the sentence next time? I was saying that you must understand you will need to cooperate with him if you want to get rid of snake-face."

"Oh." The young Gryffindor scratched his scar sheepishly. "I know that," he eventually said. And he did. He would have already moved his circle somewhere else to work on the project alone otherwise. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Sirius just sighed tiredly.

"Of course," he agreed, although it was clear even from miles away that he'd prefer otherwise. "So when are you going to do it, then?"

"Tuesday, probably," Harry grumbled, easing on his armchair.

"Isn't it a little too soon?"

"I would have started the same night Dumbledore told me about it if I hadn't been so angry." He rubbed his eyes with tiredness. "But I would have risked to blow up the whole castle at that point, I'm sure."

"Is it dangerous?" Sirius asked worriedly.

"No, not particularly," the boy-who-lived replied dismissingly. "Almost certainly less than summoning a demon. But it's complicated and if we're not lucky it could not work at all. I have Voldemort's full Name from his own lips, thanks to one of the Headmaster's memories, but I still don't know if that's worth anything. People's Names – capital N – change all the time according to the person's self-concept and that's not considering madmen who actually discard their real names to go by pseudonyms."

"Well," the dog-animagus started, then hesitated and finally continued, "does the pseudonym become the actual _Name _in that case?"

The young Gryffindor shrugged.

"We don't know yet, but Dumbledore made sure to get Snape to help," he said. "He made him store every memory in which Voldemort's uttered his title in front of him. If that's what is going to take, I'm gonna go over the whole Death Eater's experience of my favourite Professor and get to enjoy the Dark Lord's little club from the inside."

"That would be so much fun!" Sirius quipped with a cheeky smile.

Harry made a face at him before sighing.

"I just hope that's going to be enough," he said. "Voldemort's created his Horcruxes throughout many years. If the diary was indeed one, he had made that when he was about sixteen, and I suspect it would take his Name from that time to actually track it. The same goes for the still existing ones, supposedly five of them. Who knows whether we'll find all the Names we need?"

The man's face shifted inside the mirror as his expression turned thoughtful.

"Can't you use other things? Like clippings or hair? Isn't that what you did with Umbridge?"

"Oh yeah, why didn't I think of that! Would you collect some for me, dear?" the boy-who-lived asked sweetly. "I bet he manicures his nails and leaves clippings on the sink, but you probably won't have much luck on getting hair from his pasty white head."

The dog-animagus shrugged from beyond the mirror.

"It doesn't have to be necessarily from his head, does it?" He flashed his godson a grin when he burst out laughing. "On a more Sirius note, though-"

"No easy joke," Harry warned him and the man huffed in annoyance.

"Alright," he said. "I was just going to ask what happens next. Suppose you find the right Name… what's the second step?"

"I'll have to call these Horcruxes into the circle, if possible, or simply track them down in case that fails. We're thinking about a good way to actually destroy them but our priority now is finding them."

The Marauder mumbled noncommittally.

"Couldn't you just destroy them yourself, right there and then? You told me a Dresden wizard could do practically everything when possessing a real Name." His face lit up suddenly. "Hey! You could off Voldemort from Hogwarts!"

Harry flinched slightly at those words and tensed a little on his armchair.

"No," he disagreed. "Well, yes, I could, _technically_, but I wouldn't."

The face in the mirror disappeared beyond the frame for a moment as the dog-animagus shifted uncomfortably in front of his godson's reaction.

"Why?"

The young Gryffindor shook his head quickly.

"I can't kill so deliberately with magic… even if it's Voldemort." He shuddered at the mere thought. "Ebenezar taught me that magic comes from life, from the essence of it and of what I am. From myself." His voice turned quiet after that. "If I took a life like that with my powers… what would that say about me? What would that _make_ me?"

The dog animagus was silent for some minutes after that. Harry bore his intense stare for a while before averting his eyes. When he brought them on the mirror again he found the man smiling slightly.

"I can't decide if that's honorable or stupid," he commented eventually. "Let's just say Gryffindorish and settle for that. Reminds me a bit of James. He would have never accepted such a win either. He was a fighter through and through."

Harry looked up at that, green eyes bright. He ignored the stinging pain behind them and grinned wolfishly. He hadn't meant exactly what his godfather had said but he felt that it applied nonetheless.

"I'm really itching to kick the bastard back to where he's come from, you know?" he said cheekily. "I'll _Fuego_ his ass to a turn!"

"Damn right, you will!" Sirius cheered excitedly. "And I'll be right beside you when you do!"

They shared a small smile, both knowing that things wouldn't be nearly as easy as they had made them sound but happy to be able to revel on the fantasy anyway. The young Gryffindor sobered first.

"Speaking about Names," he said quietly, not really looking at his godfather. "I could… you know… try with Wormtail."

The Marauder's eyes widened immediately at those words. He opened his mouth only to close it a moment later.

"I… I really hadn't thought about that," the man said eventually, a murderous glint surfacing in his haunted eyes. "We could track him down. We could-"

"Bring him to the Ministry and prove your innocence," the boy-who-lived continued for him, the slightest tone of warning in his voice.

"We could do that," Sirius agreed and yet sounded almost disappointed.

They played with some other ideas for a while before drifting to less heavy stuff like pranks, homework, and much to Harry's chagrin and secret smugness, girls.

"So how are things going with the little Raven?" the dog-animagus asked with a sly smile. "Got to third base yet?"

"Wouldn't you like to know…" the young Gryffindor replied mysteriously.

"Oh come on! I'm dying for some details here!"

He laughed. "I'm not going to talk about that with you, Padfoot."

"Ah, I understand," Sirius said sadly, a look of mocking disappointment on his face. "You just waste all the time snogging, then."

"We don't!" Harry blurted out before he could stop himself. He then blushed as his godfather let out a exclamation of victory.

"Ah-ah! So you _did_ get to third base!" he cheered beyond the surface of the mirror. "So tell me! How was it? Did you last long enough or give up in a few seconds? Can she do that thing her aunt did back in the days, when she rolled her tongue and-"

"I'm going to cut the connection right now!" the boy-who-lived said, thoroughly embarrassed. He stood up quickly. "See you soon, Sirius!"

"Don't you da-" was all Harry heard before tapping the frame with his wand. The man's image disappeared, immediately replaced by his own reflection as if he was staring into a normal mirror.

He sighed in relief, snorting lightly as he put the magical object down on the table. It was great to be able to talk to Sirius whenever he wanted, and the Marauder had really been of incredible support about the prophecy, not to mention the whole Dresden-Elaine-Justin business. His godfather had… quite some experience in treachery, and the grief and the hatred that came with it, and he had helped him a lot in trying to come to grip with it. Exactly like the man hadn't been able to do in his life.

It had been moving and very sad to see Sirius so... full of regrets. He could always seem cheerful and mischievous, and even when he sometimes got angry, it was evident to Harry it was good-natured more often than not, but when he had talked to him that first night… the man had practically _pleaded_ him not to dwell on his anger and frustration, and the boy-who-lived had definitely caught a glimpse of how much the Marauder had suffered throughout the years. The young Gryffindor had thought about it for a long time and further discussions with the man had eventually convinced him of one thing.

He was going to follow Sirius' advice. He was _not_ going to repeat his mistake.

Now, good intentions were good and all, but feelings rarely followed them passively, and despite his resolve, Harry found himself still bitter about what had happened with Justin and Elaine. The fact that it hadn't really been him the one betrayed by the people he cared the most in the world continued being not very significant in his mind, unfortunately, and it hurt nonetheless.

Still, his second trip to Dresden Land had inevitably changed the matters. Justin was dead. _Elaine _was dead. It was hard to keep on hating them. He was starting to think he really could get over their betrayal completely, just like Dresden would. His alter-ego of sorts was fairing very well all things considered, whether it was because of Ebenezar's equilibrated influence and teachings or because of the young American's own disposition, he didn't know, but he was happy for him, anyway. Hopefully, it was only a matter of time before they both would put it all behind them.

Harry pulled his wand and checked the time, eventually deciding it was late enough that he needed to get a move on if he wanted to make it for dinner. Sirius hadn't given him the chance to tell him what he was about to do, which was a pity considering he was sure the Marauder would have gotten a laugh out of it. He knew he could count on Ron and Hermione to record the whole thing with their Omnioculars, though, and the young Gryffindor smiled, knowing what to give his godfather for his birthday.

The boy-who-lived willed a large work-table into existence and rubbed his hands together in a determinate fashion before taking deep calming breaths. He figured he should take it slow to avoid messing things up because of a hurried mistake. What he was about to do would probably turn out to be long and tiring, if not exactly difficult, but he didn't want to take any chances considering what the results could entail. He did _not_want to make another visit to Dresden so soon. He couldn't help but feel excited, though, as this would be the first time he used his new kind of magic so extensively and variedly. And he would do it alone, Dumbledore be damned.

He reached for his rucksack and rummaged inside, soon pulling out the small bag he had started using since practicing Dresden magic. There was everything he needed there, shrunk and secured with Hogwarts magic and ready to be used at all times. He carefully emptied its content on the work-table and could only grin from ear to ear in seeing some of the things in there. He ignored the dozen tiny plastic sachets labeled each with a different letter and all containing locks of hair of different colour, and directed his attention to his potion kit instead.

It wasn't a _normal_ potion kit. If Snape had taken a look at it, for example, he would have probably dismissed it as an odd jumble of useless things. But they were far from useless, and Harry Potter was about to prove it to the whole Great Hall of Hogwarts. Sorta.

The young Gryffindor swished his wand down and tapped the tiny alcohol-flame burner Arthur Weasley had happily provided him, enlarging it at once. He then poured eight ounces of a muggle sports drink into a round beaker and put it to simmer for a while, readying all the other ingredients in the meantime.

Dresden potions were a tricky business, maybe not on the same level as the ones taught at Hogwarts – those could explode far more easily, after all – but dangerous in a different way. Unless you screwed up royally during the preparation, they usually seemed pretty much okay until you ingested them. At that point, if they weren't good, the effects they had on you could be quite unpleasant, some times lethal, some others just weird. Harry's second attempt at making one was a perfect example of that. He really should have waited to study his powers more thoroughly before daring to add an ingredient such as a magical photo of this world to the brew. After what had happened with his sleeping potion, Harry had promised himself to just use regular objects for his concoctions, at least for the time being. He was lucky he hadn't suffered anything worse than a night-long stomach-ache.

The sports drink acted as the basic liquid for the potion he was brewing now, and when it eventually started to boil, he proceeded to add the ingredients gathered on the work-table, one for each senses, one for the mind and one for the spirit. He tried to follow Bob's rules as strictly as his memories would allow him to. Justin had rarely taught Dresden and Elaine magic that didn't have a painful or humiliating lesson attached to it, delegating such tasks like explaining potions to his spirit of intellect. Both young wizards had always been very happy about it, because however embarrassing and annoying being taught by a horny human skull could be, it would have never even come close to what DuMorne had been capable of. Besides, Bob was simply a bottomless well of knowledge when it came to magic, and potions weren't an exception.

The young Gryffindor shook his head slightly, getting rid of the harsh memories of Justin's teachings and resuming his work on the brew. He continued stirring it with precise movements as he added the other ingredients. A sugar cube went first for taste, immediately followed by a drop of petrol for smell and a powdered hawk feather for touch. When the liquid gained a light gray colour, he poured into it the fast beat of his hands on the work-table and the muggle photo of a running leopard. The flash of a portable light went next for the mind, and for the spirit Harry added a thread from his lucky wristband, the one he always used during his Quidditch matches.

He waited for the ingredients to blend together into the brew before chanting the faux-Latin litany he had memorized previously, forcing his magic into the concoction in a controlled wave. As always for what concerned Dresden potions, everything seemed to go as planned and as well as he could have hoped, but even when the brew produced grayish puffs of smoke like it was supposed to, Harry wouldn't have bet on a perfect outcome just yet. You could rarely know before gulping it down, but if all had went well, his superspeed potion was ready.

The young Gryffindor waited for the beaker to cool off some before picking it up and pouring its content into a couple of small vials he had just enlarged. He corked them carefully before setting them on the table, looking at the gray liquid inside in wary fascination. It was incredible what a wizard from Dresden's world could do with such simple objects and enough intent to back them up. Maybe his hate for the Hogwarts' Potion Master made him biased, but the boy-who-lived thought his world had drawn the shorter straw in this particular branch of magic.

Forcefully peeling his eyes off the vials, he pulled out the special galleon he had Hermione make and examined it.

Perfect. Everything was set and in position.

He saved the coin in his pocket and looked through the sachets until he found the one labeled with the letter 'U'. He took it and grinned wolfishly, staring at the brown lock of hair beyond the plastic.

The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts' wouldn't know what hit her.

He spent the next five minutes preparing everything he needed on the ground, eventually checking it over once more to make sure he had not mixed up anything. Then he packed everything left on the table except for one vial and the chalk, and shrank the bag until it fit in his pocket.

The Room of Requirement made the table disappear at his command while he put the potion on the stone pavement and started drawing a fairly large circle around him and his things. He invested a sparkle of magic into it, feeling it close with a satisfying snap to form an invisible barrier. Then he sat down crossed-legged and tried to make himself comfortable, paying careful attention not to touch the white lines confining him in. The magic circle was a simple one, perfect to keep the energy of the ambient outside and his own inside, but physical matter would easily disrupt it by simply making contact and if something like that happened during the spell the results would be highly dangerous.

The various sachets laid harmlessly in front of him, all empty now for practicality, although what they had contained until a few minutes before was resting right next to each of them, thus still identifiable. For the umpteenth time, Harry made sure everything was set. Then he drew a deep breath and started chanting.

"Commuto, commutatio, commutionis," he rumbled in a quiet voice, picking up Umbridge's hair and switching it with Crabbe's first. Then he put the dark lock belonging to the Slytherin fifth-year where Zacharias Smith's had been and continued from there. "Commuto, commutatio, commutionis."

The words rolled out of his mouth again and again as the locks of hair replaced one another in his hands and then back on the ground. The image of what was supposed to happen in the Great Hall after his thaumaturgy spell stayed perfectly clear in his mind during the whole thing, and as a strong pressure started building inside the circle, he struggled to picture it in even more details. He focused his energy into the spell, and it grew and grew until it became almost impossible to control, a force pushing against him seemingly from all sides.

Giving final shape to the spell turned out even more difficult than what he had expected, and he had positively _dreaded_ it before starting. He somehow managed to do it despite his ragged breath and the atrocious pressure on his body, and when he finally mustered the last of his strength, he reached out for the potion vial, wildly shaking fingers struggling to keep their grip on it. Uncorking it was an enormous effort in and of itself, as was bringing the thing up to his lips to chug its content down, but as soon as he had managed that, everything started to change.

Harry didn't even have the time to grimace at the overly saccharine taste of it, for he immediately felt the potion reach his gut and from there extended to the rest of his body in a burning wave of energy. As the vial fell from his hand opening on its own volition, he hurried to release the spell before his wavering concentration could mess it up. The powerful but still undirected energy that had built up throughout the spell raged all around for a seemingly infinite moment as it snapped and hissed at him like a furious animal.

Then Harry stepped on the chalk line of his circle, effectively smudging it.

What happened next looked like not much more than a blur to the young Gryffindor. The dizziness caused by the sudden loss of his gathered magic clashed against the reinvigorating effects of his potion, making him stumble forward. It was then that he realized his superspeed potion was perfectly working since he found himself ten feet away from his disrupted circle, whereas he couldn't have possibly moved more than a couple.

And he was still running.

The door of the Room of Requirement opened a short instant later, and when it eventually closed again, he was already stepping onto the floor below. The whole world seemed to rush past him in a blur as a feeling of euphoric vigour spread over his limbs and joints, charging them with incredible energy. He was faster than wind, faster than sound.

Faster than his spell.

He didn't immediately realize he was howling in glee as he jumped entire flights of stairs in the blink of an eye, brushing past suits of armors and portraits and leaving bewildered chaos behind.

He was maybe thirty feet away from the Great Hall, just on top of the big staircase leading to its doors, when the potion started to wear off. He stopped screaming at once, feeling somewhat disappointed by the sudden loss of energy and strength. Looking down at his feet and at the stone steps flying by, it was evident his speed was progressively decreasing too. When he eventually reached the opened doors and the Great Hall beyond them, he felt like he was running in slow motion, though he was really much faster than normal. As he made his way to the Gryffindor table and the couple of twins sitting by its end, he quickly glanced up at the teachers and assessed the situation.

Perfect. The prank had yet to start.

When he plopped down amidst his blinking housemates, he directed his large grin to the former batters of his former Quidditch team.

"You said one has to be present to his own prank, right?" he panted quietly, weary beyond comprehension now that whatever enhancement the potion had given him had disappeared. He nodded towards the teachers' table "Now watch this."

As soon as Fred and George had turned their heads, all hell broke loose.

* * *

"This isn't over!" Fred said before his twin could drag him out of the room. "You're not getting away from this!"

"Bye, Harry," George called beyond his shoulder, snorting, and they both disappeared through the door.

The boy-who-lived just scratched his scar irritably as the people around him sniggered. Apart from Fred pestering him about George's involvement and not his, his latest prank had been a complete success. It had looked so good that if he hadn't known better he would have thought it had been scripted in its entirety. Crabbe's sudden appearance in Umbridge's seat with a huge sandwich sticking out of his mouth had been priceless, but so had been Luna burping and George loudly announcing his new status as High Inquisitor when it had been their turn to occupy the woman's chair. Megan Jones' deer-in-the-headlights' look had been funny too, while Umbridge screeching around the Great Hall and trying in vain to regain her position had been simply hilarious. Copies of the night from Ron and Hermione's Omnioculars were already passing around the castle.

"He took offence for not being the target of a prank," Michael Corner said with a shake of his head. "Crazy."

"Tell me about it," Harry said with a snort.

"Humour him, though," Dean advised with a smirk. "He won't leave you alone otherwise."

The young Gryffindor just frowned but internally agreed with his friend. He hadn't really planned any other prank but maybe he could think of something. The truth was he didn't really care about practical jokes. Practicing different aspects of his new powers had always been his real objective. Messing with Umbridge was only a nice bonus… and now he had to add Fred to the list to make him happy.

Ginny walked up to them and hooked her arm with Michael's, before kissing him.

"You ready?" he asked her.

"Yes, let's go. Bye, Harry."

The boy-who-lived looked around and sighed in relief when he realized Ron had already been out of the room. Who knew what he would have done if he had seen that…

The DA meeting had just come to an end and the Room of Requirement was slowly emptying as the members waved their goodbye to him before stepping out and into the hallway, directed to their own dormitories.

A warm sensation rose in the young Gryffindor's chest as he watched them pass. They were all improving, some more quickly than others, but every last one of them was much better now than they had been at the beginning of their association. Harry took pride in that, feeling that a big part of it had been his doing, and he promised to himself not to neglect them like he had somewhat done in the past few weeks. He had been busy, sure, but Ernie was right in saying he could have scheduled a meeting sooner.

A pair of arms slithered around his stomach and he recognized the body that hugged him from behind a second later. He turned around with a smile and put his hands on Cho's hips, leaning down to kiss her.

"I have to go," the pretty Ravenclaw said after his lips had left hers. "There's a Herbology project I need to complete by tomorrow."

Harry noticed that her friend, Marietta, was waiting for her by the door, an impatient look on her face.

"Alright," he agreed genially, secretly happy that was the case. That night he had intended to try his hand at making a blasting rod and he couldn't have done that without Cho asking him questions he felt uncomfortable answering. "I have something to do myself, anyway. Be careful."

"You too."

And one cheeky grin and another kiss later, she was out of the room.

Harry looked around as he pulled out the Marauder's Map from his pocket to check that the coast was still clear. Only a few people remained and then he would be alone. He had told Ron and Hermione what he wanted to do, and after some reassuring, they had decided to go back to the Gryffindor common room to finish some assignments. The boy-who-lived was surprised his friends hadn't realized he hadn't been exactly honest when he had told them he wasn't about to do anything dangerous. He was usually a pretty bad liar.

He watched via Map as they arrived to the tower, then followed the name of his girlfriend until she too was safe in her common room. When he thought everyone was safe on their way, he gathered his will and intent, and brought up the ward around the room. He made sure the quartzes were once more activated before putting them on a small table. Hermione had eventually convinced him to try the spell again, with both her and Ron present on top of it, and this second try had gone pretty much flawlessly. He had slightly missed the calibration he had aimed at, true, but nothing had exploded in his face that time, so he could consider it a success.

Finally alone, the boy-who-lived reached for his rucksack and pulled out five large twigs. He had patrolled the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest for a whole hour to find something suitable for his project and those were the only ones that had felt vaguely right in his hands.

Sitting down on a pile of pillows, he asked the Room of Requirement for a worktable, and when it immediately appeared in front of him, he pulled his knife out of the bag and started working on the first stick. It was a bit thicker than what he was used to but that was probably a good thing since it would give him a bigger margin for error. He sighed as he cleaned it and rubbed down the unnecessary bumps along its bark.

He would need that margin.

Creating a blasting rod was hard work when Bob or Justin were there telling him what to do. Without them, it would be much, much worse. The boy-who-lived had busied himself all day to try and remember everything he could but there was a very good chance he'd make a mistake, unfortunately. The problem wasn't so much the final product – he had its looks perfectly committed to his memory thanks to all the times he and his alter-ego had used or simply checked it.

The problem was the process to attain it.

The young Gryffindor could describe Dresden's blasting rod down to the finest detail but he couldn't really recall the exact order he had to follow in carving the symbols on it or at what point he had to start channelling some of his magic. He only had a general idea and he knew that, if he wanted to succeed, it had to be through trial and error.

After he had polished all five twigs, he started carving the first one, the process being somewhat soothing and relaxing. He finished in about fifteen minutes but the blasting rod didn't so much as light up when he asked it to. He took his time with the second and half an hour later, when he was about to finish, the wood cracked and practically split in two under the pressure of his magic. He found himself wondering whether five twigs would be enough as he started working on the third one.

After going through four failures, Harry took the last stick and glared at it in annoyance. Despite tweaking the process every time, he was still doing something wrong, obviously, but he had no real way to know what, so he just swallowed his frustration and tried once more.

When he finished, the blasting rod looked perfect – like three of the previous four had, really. Symbols of power and control marked its length on all sides, dark wood lightened up where the knife had cut more deeply. It looked familiar and right, but Harry knew that didn't mean anything. Appearances could be deceiving, as his earlier failures proved,

He stood up from the pile of pillows and turned towards the twigs he had discarded in a corner of the room. Gripping the stick more forcefully, its carved bark pressed tightly against his palm and he sighed.

"Here goes nothing."

Blasting rod raised, he pointed it at its predecessors.

"Ventas!"

Magic flowed through his fingers and down the weapon, lighting up the wood.

"Yes!" the boy-who-lived cheered as the sigils glowed softly with a yellow hue and wind picked up in front of him.

Then the blasting rod in his hand literally blew up and a shower of splinters rammed in his palm.

"Fuck!" he screamed, clutching the injured hand to his chest. He bit his lip to hold down the stream of curses that wanted to flow out of his mouth and instead started taking the wooden pieces out of his palm and fingers.

"Fuck," he repeated breathlessly when he was done. "I'm out of here."

He quickly took his things with his uninjured hand, and making sure it was safe to do so with the Marauder's Map, he marched towards the door. He went out of his way to angrily kick the useless blasting rods on the ground once and then just made his way to the Infirmary, whimpering quietly as he pulled out another splinter out of his thumb.

* * *

Harry Potter had been edgy all day. It was finally Tuesday, the Quidditch match against the Hufflepuffs had passed by, his interview on the Quibbler had been published and many students had approached him to either compliment, cheer or ask him questions.

The young Gryffindor didn't care about any of that, his mind too busy thinking about other, more important things. He wandered through the school-day with a passivity that preoccupied his friends and girlfriend to no end. He had noticed it, of course, but had ultimately done very little to ease their worries. Ron and Hermione knew the reason – he had confided in them about the Horcruxes – but Cho had been mercilessly left wondering what had happened. It pained him to see her so upset, but he didn't want to involve her in this particular matter.

The day was slowly coming to an end, though, and the boy-who-lived was already making his way through the corridors of Hogwarts and towards the Headmaster's office, glad that he didn't have to postpone the moment any longer. There was an echo to his steps that sounded hollow and grim to his own ears, and it seemed to him that the shadows covering the castle were growing darker by the second. As opposed to that, he felt his determination steel and focus and the nervousness that had accompanied him through his day slowly recede. It was as if the world was trying to frighten him into curling and hiding, but his inner purpose just wouldn't let him.

When he reached the stone gargoyle blocking his way, he glared at it resolutely until it leapt aside to let him in. Harry knew it had been Dumbledore's doing – the man seemed to have a way of knowing what was going on around his office at all times – but he couldn't help but feel even more assured as he climbed up the stairs three steps at the time. He knocked on the impressive wooden door twice but didn't even wait for an answer before opening it and entering.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts was standing beside Fawkes' perch and petting the phoenix affectionately. The gargoyle slid back in its place right as the door closed behind his back and the old wizard turned towards him with a small smile.

"Sir," the young Gryffindor greeted him quickly, acting as coldly as he could so as to immediately remind his Professor of the current stage in their relationship.

"Harry," Dumbledore replied after a moment of silence, smile completely gone. He moved away from the crimson creature and towards his desk. "Please, take a seat. You've arrived quite earlier than what we had planned."

The boy-who-lived plopped down onto what was by now a very familiar armchair, taking advantage of the man giving him his back to throw a quick smile at Fawkes when he trilled softly.

"How are you doing, my boy?" the Headmaster asked, sitting down himself.

"Good."

"Lessons are progressing well, I understand. Minerva tells me your grades have improved significantly lately."

"Strangely enough," Harry said. "I admittedly didn't spare much time for homework in these last few weeks."

The old wizard smiled knowingly, lips stretching evidently under his long beard. "Yes, but you had an atypical and yet very effective tutor, a tutor who I think helped both in school matters and not. Don't you agree?"

The young Gryffindor answered neither the question nor the smile. He agreed, but he wasn't about to confide in the Professor about it. Yes, Dresden's magic and his relative knowledge had been useful in academic matters – spells were all so much easier when you could sense how the energy flowed and moved – and his experience had come in handy in numerous personal situations as well. The American's influence had some drawbacks too, but Harry was aware and grateful that they were outnumbered by far by the advantages.

When it appeared clear he wouldn't say anything, Dumbledore tried a different route.

"I was quite surprised by the latest publication of the Quibbler," he pressed on. "I know how hard it must have been for you to retell those events, but I must say I'm extremely proud of what you have done."

Harry tried not to move even a muscle of his face as he just stared blankly ahead, but the man just wouldn't let go. He sighed and spoke up again.

"My boy, I wish you could forgive-" he started and the young Gryffindor felt some of his control slip at the sorrowful tone in his voice.

"We've already done this, Headmaster," he interrupted him abruptly. "You apologize, I don't forgive you. End of discussion. Let's fucking move on." Outraged cries and some occasional snigger started raining down from the portraits all around them but Dumbledore silenced them by raising a hand. The boy-who-lived continued. "We're here to destroy the Horcruxes, not to talk about _not talking _about them, aren't we?"

For a moment it looked like the old wizard would object but then he just inclined his head in his direction in a small bow of sorts.

"Very well," he said solemnly. "I am sad to confess I haven't discovered a more convenient method to accomplish that."

Harry let out a long sigh and nodded at the new topic. He had no problem with discussing 'work', but he didn't know when or even if he'd ever feel comfortable again to talk about other stuff around the man.

"So we're going with the classic?" he asked for confirmation.

They had been somewhat stuck on how going about destroying Voldemort's soul fragments and now it appeared that the old-fashioned way of stabbing them with a Basilisk fang was to be used. Nothing had turned up in the Professor's last-minute research evidently, while severing the connection that linked the Horcrux to the Dark Lord from within remained an impractical method of difficult implementation and definitely a one-time kind of thing – for which Harry, by the way, was still thanking whoever was up there in the sky profusely. He couldn't express in human or parseltongue words how happy he was he had gotten rid of the fragment of Voldemort's soul inside of him before even knowing that it had been there.

"Not exactly," the old wizard replied. "I asked Filius to help me examine the sword of Godric Gryffindor and he's agreed with me that its blade has inherited most of the deadly properties of Basilisk venom since your encounter with it in the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry nodded thoughtfully after a moment of consideration. "It'll save us from going down there to get a fang, at least, but it still means we're just going to track down the Horcruxes instead of summoning them."

Which had been the whole point of searching for another way to destroy them. Since summoning them would have detached the soul fragments from the physical objects and brought only the former to the circle – sparing them from facing whatever defences Voldemort had presumably surrounded them with – they had needed an idea, a method, a spell that would have let them get rid of the spiritual matter. Stabbing an incorporeal soul wouldn't do much, be it with a fang or a sword.

Still, Harry had already resigned to the alternative since he himself had refused to use Dresden magic to destroy them and Dumbledore had looked hesitant about giving the killing curse a try. He would have liked it to take maximum advantage of his ability to actually bring the Dark Lord's soul fragments to them, but it wasn't going to be that easy, apparently.

"I'm afraid that, even if more impractical, it is our best solution," the Headmaster reasoned.

"Alright." The boy-who-lived clapped his hands once, jumped up from his armchair with determination and walked up to the glimmering circle on the right side of the room. "I'll use the Name from Voldemort's last year at Hogwarts first. That's probably the safest bet not to alert snake-face himself since I highly doubt he'd still answer to that."

"It is unlikely," the old wizard agreed.

"If we get to the newest versions of his Name, though, we'll have to take into account the possibility of informing him that something is going on. He won't know exactly what and he could simply blame it on a particularly strong bad feeling or a really vivid dream if we're lucky, but probably not. He'll most likely feel rattled enough to actually try and do something about it."

"I understand," the Headmaster said, looking very resolute himself. "Harry, if he is somehow able to affect you or the spell in any way, I want you to pull back immediately, no power struggle of any sorts."

The young Gryffindor had the urge to answer scathingly back at the man, but as much as he hadn't liked the tone, he knew he was right.

"Alright, although I doubt he can do anything at all." He smirked a little, imagining how much the bastard would freak out if he was hit by a thaumaturgy spell even inside the safety of Malfoy manor or wherever he had holed himself into. "Whatever Horcrux I manage to track down, I'll try to narrow down its location as much as I can. That will be the hard part, especially if I can find two or three of them, and I'll probably have to do it one at a time."

Dumbledore nodded and stood up. A kind smile was playing on his lips now.

"We aren't restricted by any time limit, Harry," he reassured him, walking around his desk and towards the circle. "While vanquishing Lord Voldemort as soon as we can would be very much desirable, it will hardly happen at all if we aren't careful with the risks we take. Let's leave the unnecessary ones alone and move at the speed we're most comfortable with, shall we?"

The boy-who-lived looked at him askew before nodding curtly.

"Here we go," he then said, more for his own benefit, as he closed his eyes.

Complete silence descended on the room for ten long minutes as even the Headmasters' portraits practically stopped breathing to not disrupt the young Gryffindor's concentration. It was a hard task, clearing his mind, one he had found impossible when he had first started his Occlumency lessons with Snape, but that was now slowly starting to become second-nature to him, if he focused on it.

Nervousness slipping away, his mind gained calmness and clarity to the point that he couldn't think of anything, much less anything troubling. He breathed deeply in concentration as even the littlest stray thought popping up in his mind became just a tiny, soundless shadow in the background. When he finally spoke up, it was in a clear, steady voice as he crouched down to touch the magic circle.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle!"

The words rang out in the room like loud tolls of a bell, charged with as much will as they were, the Name submitted to his memory up to the most unnoticeable detail and inflexion after countless repetitions inside Dumbledore's Pensieve. Immediately, several points of pressure appeared in his mind, stirring slowly as if just awakened. Harry tried to count them but they were still too undefined, as if huddled together, to be sure of their number. One thing was certain, though.

He knew what they were.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle!" he shouted again, pouring magic into the Name.

His voice rumbled like thunder inside the little office, its deep tone echoing powerfully against the walls. As the presences struggling against his call suddenly spread towards different spots of his mind, Harry pressed his hands more firmly against the glimmering stones beneath him and connected with the energy already gathering beyond them. When he eventually opened his eyes again, there were four dark shadows swirling inside the circle in front of him.

Four Horcruxes.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle!" he cried for the last, decisive time and whatever was left of the pressure in his mind poured out of him and onto the circle, effectively sealing it from the rest of the world. A brief wave of dizziness replaced it, but Dumbledore had already steadied him with a firm hand on his shoulder. An euphoric sensation followed suit.

He had done it.

Lord Voldemort's soul pieces hovered a few feet from the ground in front of him. Harry knew they were only representations of the actual fragments but also knew that they had to be pretty accurate since they had taken the appearance of dark, filamentous balls of smoke like the one he himself had contained. He remembered it perfectly from the dream-like moment that had preceded his first trip to Dresden's world and the thought that something like that had stayed with him for fourteen years of his life sent a shiver down his spine.

"Am I correct in assuming the spell worked?" Dumbledore suddenly said, distracting him from his musings.

The old wizard's hand was still on his shoulder and the boy-who-lived had to pretend he wanted to check the circle from the other side to shrug it off.

"Yes," he said, observing the filamentous balls intently. "We were pretty lucky. We only had to use Voldemort's name from his seventh year at Hogwarts and we've already found four of them."

"Only one missing, if my conjectures are indeed correct," the Headmaster mused. "I believe it is his snake since he only made a Horcrux out of it recently. Every one else dates back decades, at least as far as we know… Was everything alright? Do you know whether he has noticed anything or not?"

Harry shook his head.

"No, I'm one hundred percent sure he didn't feel a thing," he said. "The Name I used has lost any connection it had with its original owner. So have these Horcruxes, I think. Even destroying them probably won't alert him at all."

"You didn't actually summon them, Harry, did you?" the Professor wanted to know.

"No," the young Gryffindor replied simply, but he could see why the man had had that doubt seeing how they look so real, so _near _beyond the magical barrier. "These are simply representations of them. See where they're hovering? Consider the middle of the circle our position and that should give you a vague reference as to their location."

Dumbledore started walking around the clouds of smoke as well but stopped in uncertainty when they suddenly shrank and blurred inside the confines of the circle.

"Oops… that was me," the-boy-who-lived apologized sheepishly. "I have yet to get the hang of it. Controlling the angle, the scale, the point of view… it's not that easy."

"Fascinating."

The old wizard had only one word to say, apparently.

Harry toyed with the circle for a long while, trying to work it out properly as the filamentous balls twirled around and enlarged under his mental orders and will. He frowned thoughtfully when he realized that the position of one of them barely changed at all despite his wild tries. He stared at it for a long moment and then blinked in understanding.

"I have good news for you, sir," he eventually said, a smirk soon appearing on his lips. His expression turned uncertain a second later as he peeled his eyes off that particular cloud of smoke and glanced at his Headmaster. "Wait... would you consider good or bad news having a Horcrux at Hogwarts?"

Standing on the other side of the circle, the old wizard looked at him in surprise, cheeks paling considerably under his long beard.

Harry's vindictive smirk came back full force.

"Good question," Albus Dumbledore whispered back.

* * *

Author's notes - This is the last complete chapter I have. The next one is more than halfway to completion, but then again, it has been for weeks. I haven't picked it up in a long while. Till next time.

Uncle Stojil


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

* * *

It was very quiet the night Professor Trelawney was sacked. The Entrance Hall was packed full of people, students and teachers alike, but no one dared to make a sound as the Headmaster of Hogwarts squared off against the High Inquisitor. Everyone was giving them a wide berth, like an audience that wouldn't dare step on the stage of the show, much less actually make a sound to interrupt it. Even Trelawney's sobs had quieted down to silent hiccups, while she was escorted to her chambers by McGonagall and Sprout, with Flitwick following a little behind with her luggage.

Harry Potter watched her disappear up the stairs before looking back at Dumbledore. The old wizard's expression was one of absolute serenity as he stared down Umbridge with a little smile, and the boy-who-lived had no idea how the old wizard was able to do that. Rubbing his scar furiously was all _he_ could do not to reach for his wand and curse the woman back to where she had come from.

His gaze automatically shifted to the DADA teacher, her pleased expression almost sickening considering the brutality of her recent actions. She was a bully of the worst sort and he hated bullies, probably as much as Dresden did. The fact that the object of her cruelty had been a woman herself only made it worse. She was still waving her Minister's signed Order of Dismissal as she talked, a victorious smile playing on her lips. That parchment was the symbol of her power, a power she used both to shield herself and to strike at her opposers, and at the moment, Harry wanted nothing more than to tear it to pieces and burn it to ashes.

A hand touched his shoulder firmly and he forced himself to look away and at Hermione. She was staring at him in warning and deep concern, and he suddenly realized that some of his magic had started pouring out under the pressure of his emotions. All around him, the Gryffindors observing the scene were squirming uncomfortably on their spots, unknowingly sensing the foreign energy that was Dresden magic.

Harry exhaled, clenching and unclenching his left hand repeatedly as if to let go of his anger, while reining on his powers to bring them back under control. He stopped scratching his scar and looked back at Hermione, smiling what he hoped was a reassuring smile and letting her know it was alright.

'Thanks' he mouthed silently, internally impressed that she had picked up on it so fast. He imagined she was getting used to it, to the sensation she had described as a chill rolling up and down her spine. He looked around for a couple of seconds and was relieved that no one else seemed to be any the wiser. Ron too continued looking on obliviously as Umbridge spoke up again.

"You aren't doing her any favours, Albus, deluding her into thinking she can keep on living at Hogwarts," she said in a mock-sad voice. "But I guess she's not the only deluded person here."

Dumbledore's smile didn't waver in the slightest at her condescending tone.

"Oh, I am most certain this very room houses at least one more," he said calmly.

Umbridge bristled at the veiled jab and her next grin was so unnatural that it looked more like a pained grimace than anything else.

"That woman will be out of the castle soon," she forced through gritted teeth, "as soon as the Ministry and I find a much more suitable candidate for the position."

The old wizard turned sorrowful at that.

"If that is the case, then I will simply take solace in having provided a friend with a few more days of hospitality."

"I'm sure that will warm her heart," she said sweetly, "hopefully enough to get her through the winter… in whatever cold place she will stay at."

Harry scowled at the woman. She was practically glowing, so smugly and self-righteously. And for what? Kicking someone out of their home? How sick was that? He tried to imagine what _he_ would do if thrown out of Hogwarts - for all intents and purposes the only place he had ever called home and meant it - and he couldn't help the lump forming in his throat. The sensation only got sharper and hotter, extending to his chest and gut, when he thought about Dresden's life after his father's death and before Justin's arrival, when he was constantly being moved from one grim orphanage to the next at the mercy of American social welfare.

He didn't need Hermione's warning to realize that his magic had once again made its presence known, but this time he didn't try to stop it. Directing it with his will, he focused on defining a precise image in his mind's eye and waved his hand, hidden behind Ron's tall frame.

"Mirago," he whispered harshly, and his voice carried over a little more than he would have liked. Some of the nearest Gryffindors turned to look at him and he had to show them his empty hands in an innocent gesture. They soon went back to the showdown between Dumbledore and Umbridge, right as Peeves appeared out of nowhere.

He descended from the ceiling, though no one could have said how long he'd been there, dropping in between the two Professors with a mischievous grin on his translucent face.

"Boo!" he shouted right in the face of the High Inquisitor.

The woman yelped, badly startled, as she brought her hand up to her chest in an unconditioned reflex. She exposed her parchment to do so and Peeves snatched it from her fingers with speed worthy of a Seeker.

"No!" she screeched, reaching for the Ministry document again and falling short.

"Mine!" the poltergeist retorted jovially, cackling in derision as he zoomed away and up the large staircase. Umbridge cried out in outrage and looked around as if searching for help, but the students were more amused than anything else, and no one moved to stop Peeves. Her eyes fell on Dumbledore for a moment, knowing that only the Headmaster of Hogwarts truly had power over the creature, but she visibly swallowed her next few words, replacing them with an infuriated snarl.

"Stop! You little-"

And she set off in pursuit of the mischievous poltergeist, pushing students out of the way and climbing the stone staircase as quickly as she could. Loud snickers resonated in the chamber well after she had disappeared around the corner. Harry didn't join in, though he had to suppress the urge to cry out in exultance as he focused on the spell he was still weaving in the area in front of him.

"Very well," Dumbledore interrupted the laughter, but there was a small smile playing on his lips as well. "I think Professor Umbridge's sudden exit puts an early end to our little gathering. I suggest we move the scene back to the Great Hall to finish our dinner."

And with those simple words, the circle of students surrounding the wizard started trickling into the adjacent room, murmurs about what had just happened finally breaking out among them.

Harry waited where he was, briefly gesturing at his friends to go ahead. In front of him, the Headmaster of Hogwarts stood still as well, watching as the last few Ravenclaws stepped beyond the threshold and moved towards their table. Then he crouched down slowly, reaching out with his hand and closing his fingers onto the invisible – for everyone else – piece of parchment on the ground.

"Magnificent," the old wizard commented. "Truly a remarkable show of Illusion magic, Harry."

The boy-who-lived finally let go of his spell together with a tired sigh. A heartbeat later, the Ministry document that the poltergeist had supposedly stolen appeared in Dumbledore's hand.

"It didn't fool you," he grumbled in disappointment.

"I am afraid Peeves' behaviour gave it away," Dumbledore admitted. "I have had more than a century to familiarize myself with his antics, and his actions tonight were quite a bit too mild."

Harry considered that for a second. "Too little taunting?"

"I would say."

He snorted, then shook his head.

"I'm sure that's all there was to it, sir," he said sarcastically. "Of course, actually _sensing_ my magic didn't give you a big heads-up on what was going on. Right."

The old wizard looked at him for a moment, then sighed and shifted his gaze to the parchment in his hand.

"You realize that Professor Umbridge will not be deterred by Peeves' mischief, yes?" he said. "This is simply a delay, a hindrance vanishing as soon as a new document will be drafted and given to her."

Harry glared at the parchment sourly. "I know. But I thought it would give you enough time to figure out something more permanent."

"Ah, my boy," Dumbledore said in amusement. "You appear to be under the impression that I have remained idle all this time. The signs of such an occurrence have been evident since the teachers' evaluations by Professor Umbridge were made official."

Harry felt like he should have expected it. "You have a solution, then?"

"I am working towards it right as we speak."

The twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes gave him pause. He looked at the old man in suspicion.

"Am I somehow part of this solution?"

"Only if you wish to be," Dumbledore was quick to reassure him.

The boy-who-lived held the Professor's gaze for a long second while his mind went back to Trelawney's cries and Umbridge's triumphant expression. He sighed.

"What do I have to do?" he asked, and the old wizard smiled.

"Walk with me. I would like you to meet someone."

After one last quick glance at the Great Hall, Harry followed the man as he stepped towards the gates leading outside. Cold hit him as soon as he passed the threshold, leaving behind whatever magic kept the castle warm. Dumbledore had his wand out already and a simple flick in his direction was enough to stop the freezing wind from reaching him. Harry wanted to retort that he could have taken care of it himself, but managed to hold his tongue in time. He knew it was childish and silly, but it was still hard to stop himself from venting at the Headmaster at any chance he got.

"And here I thought we were finally going Horcrux hunting, tonight," he said instead, glancing briefly at the old wizard. "I guess you're not that worried about the one hidden somewhere in Hogwarts."

"On the contrary," Dumbledore said, "I am quite troubled by the risks its presence in the castle entails. But, alas, finding it by proxy appears to be the only viable solution, and that requires a few precautions. I am confident we will be able to start our search in a few days."

Harry nodded, breathing out in slight annoyance. Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to follow the Horcrux trail to a more specific area of Hogwarts. The castle's magic was simply too powerful and all-encompassing, disrupting the Thaumaturgic spell whenever he tried to narrow down the artifact's exact location. He had recently admitted to himself and Dumbledore that he needed a stronger link in order to find it, a stronger link that could be nothing if not another Horcrux. That meant tracking one outside the castle, and _that_, according to the Headmaster, meant taking security measures of some kind.

They moved through the Hogwarts ground at a slow pace. The sky had been clear in the past few days, but there was still a thick layer of snow covering everything, and the evening was dark enough that they needed to be careful. For a moment, Harry thought that Dumbledore was taking him to Hagrid's hut, but it soon became obvious it wasn't so. They walked past it and the trail of smoke rising from its chimney, directed to the woods beyond.

"The Forbidden Forest, huh?" he commented. He had immediately thought of Hogsmeade when the Headmaster had mentioned taking a walk. How come he was still so optimistic about _anything_? "Who is it that I'm going to meet in here?"

Dumbledore didn't turn around as he answered. A light had appeared after a swish of his wand and their path was now as clear as day in a radius of twenty feet.

"The new Divination teacher, I hope."

The boy-who-lived frowned in confusion. "How is that helping Trelawney?"

"Professor Trelawney," the Headmaster corrected him softly. "And that should work quite nicely. There is little I can do to stop Madame Umbridge from sacking our Sybill, but I can take action so that leaving the castle will not be forced upon her."

"How?"

"Simply enough," he said, a note of amusement evident in his voice. "Hogwarts' regulation states that teachers are obliged to vacate their chambers only to clear them for their successors. Imagine, now, if said successors did not need them, or better yet, would actually found reaching them a quite troublesome endeavour, considering their location atop the highest tower of the castle."

Harry's eyebrows shot up at that explanation. His brain took the obvious next step a second later.

"Sir, are you going to ask a _centaur_ to teach Divination at Hogwarts?" he asked.

The old wizard stopped walking long enough to point his twinkling eyes at him.

"I already did," he said. "Tonight I will have his answer."

The boy-who-lived nodded silently. It was well known that centaurs had practiced their own form of Divination since thousands of years, and although it was presumably very different from the one taught at Hogwarts, the Headmaster's offer made sense. It would also serve to undermine Umbridge's authority and ideals, racist bullshit and all, which was a big plus in his mind. That said, there were still a couple of problems he could see.

"Aren't centaurs bound to the forest, though? I thought…" He stopped a moment to duck under the low branch of a slanted tree. "I always thought they weren't interested in mingling with humans."

"Not this one," Dumbledore said at once, his lips quirking upwards. "You could say he is a rare breed among its kind. You should be well aware of that."

Harry ignored the joke. He had met only a few centaurs in his life and only one of them had given him a ride on his back, which was probably what the Headmaster was referring to.

"Firenze?"

The old wizard nodded. "Yes."

The boy-who-lived murmured noncommittally. He thought about what he knew of the centaur, both first hand and from some of Hagrid's stories. "I guess I can see him accepting the position, actually, all things considered. But why would you need _me_?"

Dumbledore paused for a long moment before answering, while Harry chanced a look away from the tangled brushwood to observe his face. Their eyes met briefly.

"He requested to speak with you," the old wizard said simply.

Harry didn't like the direction the conversation was taking. Not at all.

"About what?"

"He would not say," was the rather unsatisfying answer.

"Wait, when was this?"

"A week and half ago, I believe. Why?"

Harry looked at the Headmaster in exasperation. "Why the hell am I finding this out only now?"

He was about to launch himself into a long and accusing tirade about things being kept from him again when Dumbledore intervened.

"I temporarily withheld this information only so I could ascertain the risks were bearable," he explained calmly, stopping for a moment and looking at him. "You know better than most about the perils the Forbidden Forest harbours. Before yet again introducing you to them, I needed to make sure our path would be as clear as possible."

At that familiar argument, Harry felt his cheeks getting slightly warm.

"So you did it to protect me? Again," he said. "You really _love_ that excuse."

It was a bit cheap and something twisted in his stomach at the sight of Dumbledore's saddened look.

"I am terribly sorry that my attempts to keep you safe anger you," he said, and Harry tried and failed to find anything resembling sarcasm in his voice.

He sighed, part of his annoyance gone.

"Forget it," he said, resuming his march.

At least the man had told him on his own accord, this time. And he doubted that Umbridge's actions had forced his hand _that_ much. On the contrary, a part of him, the one still looking at the Headmaster in suspicion, couldn't help but wonder if the wizard had deliberately waited for Trelawney's dramatic ousting before coming forward with the solution. Maybe to see what Harry's reaction would be or even to _manipulate_ him into helping.

"Isn't it sad", he started suddenly, speaking up before his brain could even register what was coming out of his mouth, "that what I'm doing right now is trying to find the secret motive behind your actions?"

He thought he heard the old wizard sigh as they moved carefully over the snow.

"It is, my boy," Albus Dumbledore replied quietly, not averting his eyes from the darkness beyond his spell. "If it puts your mind at rest, another reason why I took some time before approaching you with the subject was so I could figure out what Firenze's interest in you was. I have ties with some of the informed creatures in here, some of them less tight-lipped than the centaur race."

Harry nodded, silently conceding the point. "What did you find out?"

"Very little, I must confess. Firenze's tribe has been in slight turmoil recently, as well as this whole section of the Forest. However, there should be a very specific reason for that, one that does not concern you."

Harry weighed that in for a moment.

"Is Voldemort trying to make allies with the creatures in here?" he asked. "Because that _does_ concern me."

"No, that is not the case."

"What is the reason behind their 'turmoil', then?"

"I cannot say," the Professor admitted, but stalled any protest by raising a hand. "This is not my secret to reveal, Harry. I would betray a friend's trust if I did."

The boy-who-lived swallowed the words on his tongue and kept on walking. He broke the silence a few seconds later.

"Why would Firenze ask to meet me?" he wondered aloud, and the Headmaster shook his head.

"We are here to find out."

Harry frowned in thought, but kept on following the Professor. They moved through tall grass and undergrowth, amidst trees the size of the Whomping Willow, while the sounds of the forest resonated all around. A few minutes in and the snow had completely disappeared, the umbrella of branches above too thick to let any through. The ground was muddy and slippery, though, and their advance slowed down significantly as a result.

Harry palmed his wand nervously before deciding to take it out. They were very deep inside the forest now, maybe deeper than he'd ever been, and the woods had grown quieter and quieter as well. He was starting slightly at every little sound, as he loosened the shield bracelet jingling around his left wrist, readying its magic for good measure. He had made the focus recently, after his second trip to Dresden's world, but there had been no time for a too extensive test, nor the willingness to do that, admittedly. There was a limit to how much stress – be it magical or physical – the bracelet could bear before burning out, and he didn't plan to get close to that limit with simple experiments. Besides, with fresh in mind Ebenezar's lesson as to how to create one, things had gone much more smoothly than with the blasting rod – for which he had only had very old and faded explanations from Justin and Bob as points of reference – so he was positive it would work as intended.

Looking into the darkness beyond the reach of Dumbledore's spell, Harry had the impression there were shadows moving about, just out of sight. He was just wondering whether the magical focus would be put to the test, after all, when the trees in front of them thinned out and the natural light of the moon began shining through. Soon enough, Harry could easily see the sky through the foliage above, while walking in the snow again. A large clearing opened up before his eyes, as the Professor led him a few more steps in, towards a lonely tree standing tall against the wind.

Firenze was waiting for them beside it, his silver mane glimmering in the moonlight. He was peering up at the sky with a contemplative expression on his face, but looked down immediately when the Headmaster greeted him.

"Firenze."

"Albus Dumbledore," he said softly, but his deep voice carried over the whole clearing. His gaze moved to Harry after a moment of consideration. "Harry Potter. It was foretold in the night sky that we would meet again."

"Nice to meet you, too," the boy-who-lived said, "but that's cheating. You _asked_ to meet me."

"I did," the centaur agreed. "And yet, the conditions for our encounter to happen were entirely unrelated to anything any one of us might have done in this life."

"Well... here I am," he said hesitantly. "What did you want from me?"

He shifted a little under Firenze's stare. His eyes were a startling shade of blue and so intense that they felt like they were seeing right through him. The centaur just observed him in silence for a few seconds. Then he pushed back his head and looked up.

"My brethren's findings over the centuries have taught me that our world's fortune can be seen in the heavens above," he started quietly, gaze roaming about the sky. "Throughout the last decade, my herd and I… we all agreed about what was to come, the events made even more clear by the fumes of our herbs burning. The indications had been that wizardkind was living through nothing more than a brief calm between two wars. Mars, bringer of battle, shined ever so brightly, suggesting that the fight might have broken out again soon. And you, Harry Potter, have always floated at the centre of it all."

Harry sighed at those words with something akin to resignation.

"Great," he muttered. "I really needed another one of these fun prophecies."

"Not a prophecy," Firenze corrected at once. "Just the whispers of the universe."

"Well, at least the Prophet is right, now?" the boy-who-lived said. "I do believe I'm at the centre of the universe after this." He sighed again, not really amused himself. "Doesn't it have something more interesting to whisper about?"

Maybe it was the sudden cold wind sweeping through the clearing, but he thought the centaur's following smile was quite chilling.

"It appears it does," the creature said. "The signs have been proven false."

A few seconds passed before Harry realized that maybe he could speed up the process a little.

"Huh," he said in interest. "Does it happen often?"

"The heavens have been read wrong before," Firenze admitted candidly. "It can take centaurs years to decipher and interpret the movement of stars and planets, and time often influences our perspectives, and as a result, our understanding. But that's not what took place with this. We were not wrong." He looked much more serious after a pause. "The universe was."

Not really sure of what that even meant, Harry looked at Dumbledore for help, but the old wizard seemed to be quite content on his backseat for the moment, and an expressionless face was all he got in return.

"Alright," he said eventually, trying to refrain from shrugging. "And I'm guessing _that_ doesn't happen very often."

"Never," Firenze said. "As far as we know, at least. But the fact that the whole heavenly vault seemed to shift overnight to accommodate for its mistake points at a rather unique occurrence."

"Over-" the boy-who-lived started to repeat, then shut his mouth. "When exactly was this... this shift you mentioned?"

"Precisely one moon past, tonight. January the 29th, by your calendar."

This time, the look he exchanged with the Headmaster of Hogwarts was a knowing one. January the 29th was the day he first crossed over into Dresden's world.

"Ah," the centaur said, intelligent eyes intent on the both of them. "That night has particular meaning for you, it seems." He peered up at the night sky once again, almost a longing expression descending on his face. When he lowered his gaze again, it had completely left place to a resolute one. "Very well, Albus. I accept your offer, if it still stands. I will be the Divination teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

While the student still struggled to warp his mind around what was happening, the Professor didn't miss a beat.

"Of course."

"Wait, I-"

An inhuman scream stopped Harry on his tracks. It shook the very ground he stood upon, a cry of rage so loud that he had a hard time believing a Sonorus wasn't involved. His wand was in his hand in a heartbeat, while Dumbledore moved in front of him a second later. Firenze beat his whooves against the ground, as many more screams, this time definitely human, added to the first. They also helped in pinpointing the direction and especially the distance from which they came, although it was impossible to make out anything beyond the clearing.

"This remains an almost nightly occurrence," Firenze said, actually sounding calm. "Something needs to be done, Albus."

As he said that, a few lights started appearing in the darkness beyond Dumbledore's spell. Small yellow points at first, but they grew bigger and bigger until Harry could finally see they were lanterns, and the ones holding them were centaurs. The creatures seemed to make a beeline for their clearing, but the boy-who-lived could only take his cue from his Headmaster and, like him, he stayed rooted where he was. Soon, the shouts became comprehensible - most of them turning out to be curses of the non-magical variety and the likes - and the centaurs reached their meeting place. There was a dozen of them, some looking dishevelled if not injured, and Harry recognized both Ronan and Bane at the head of the herd.

"Damn giants," the latter was saying heatedly as he approached. "And half-giants, too!"

Definitely more composed, Ronan stopped a few feet from them and nodded, red mane shaking in the cold wind.

"Firenze. Albus," he greeted, before his eyes travelled to the young Gryffindor. "Ah," he said simply, and just like with Firenze, Harry almost felt naked under the stare.

Beside them, the Headmaster of Hogwarts bowed deeply.

"Ronan," he greeted. "Can this old wizard be of any assistance to you and yours?"

It took him a long second, but the centaur's gaze eventually shifted away. The boy-who-lived found himself releasing a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.

"We are fine," the creature said. "Hagrid's ties hold. Our scuffles with the giant remain under control. For now."

Bane muttered something under his breath, but remained silent otherwise. The other centaurs surrounded the clearing in the meantime, their demeanour not exactly threatening, but not reassuring, either.

"I'm sorry, what?" Harry said. Did he just say they had a fight with Hagrid? He looked from Ronan to Dumbledore in confusion, but it was actually Bane that spoke up.

"A giant," he repeated with a sneer, "that your overgrown friend brought in our forest. You humans should-"

But he stopped when Ronan raised his hand in a halting gesture. A moment of awkward silence followed, as the creature - evidently the leader of the group - kept on staring at the old wizard.

"What brings you, and the boy-who-lived, here?"

Harry gulped, immediately feeling the weight of the herd's gazes as they moved on him.

Before the Professor could speak, Firenze stepped forward and looked straight into Ronan's eyes.

"They are here because I requested it," he said, "before I accepted the Headmaster's offer of teaching the human foals at Hogwarts."

A stream of muttering came after a stunned silence. Bane looked like someone had just punched him in the gut, while nothing could be glistened from Ronan's expression.

"You... you can't!" Bane eventually managed to say. "How can you-"

But Firenze cut him off, as more centaurs started raising their voices.

"Brothers," he resumed, turning on his hind-legs to meet everyone's gaze. The clearing quieted down immediately. "We all have seen the signs, both before and after that inexplicable night. And this young wizard," he said while putting his hands to rest on Harry's shoulders, "is the only consistency of notice to be found. I am but holding onto it before losing myself."

The centaur's grip tightened at those words, as again, all eyes turned to the boy-who-lived, who could only squirm uncomfortably under all the attention.

"My beliefs were shaken that night," the creature continued, "as most do when facing events going beyond their confines. My hope is that... this difficult decision will result in broadening them. Until I can understand."

Complete silence descended in the clearing, then, as the whole herd visibly pondered what their brother had said. Despite thousands of questions screaming in his mind, Harry didn't make a sound, knowing that the balance was too delicate for him to risk anything else.

"Wizard," Ronan said after what felt like an eternity. And he was looking straight at him. "Do you believe a single mortal can change the heavens?"

That was _not_ one of the questions that had been floating in his brain, so Harry took a long minute to answer.

"I believe everyone of us can to an extent," he said clearly. "I don't believe in destiny or in everything being written in stone, the stars or whatever."

The centaur smiled ever so slightly. "Neither do we. But you misinterpreted the question. The heavens, as we understand them, are not the future alone. They are present, and past."

"So..." he tried again. "Do I believe anyone can change the present and the past? I guess... yes to an extent and no, respectively."

Ronan nodded slowly. "Until one fateful night, one moon ago, we believed your world was drifting through a transitory period of peace before a new, old war would start again. Around you."

"Yeah," Harry said, "I was just told. I was also told that was wrong, right? But wrong how?" he asked, hope filtering in his voice. "Am I not in the middle of it, anymore, or... are there no wars in sight, maybe?"

But as Ronan's eyes softened, he knew that wasn't it.

"No, young wizard," he said. "You remain, indeed, in the eye of the storm."

"Then what..." He exhaled in frustration "What _has_ changed?"

Firenze's hands left his shoulder and he suddenly felt very much alone.

"This war we see... it has grown bigger, Harry Potter." Ronan said, and the boy-who-lived stiffened in surprise. The centaur had pronounced his Name almost exactly right. "And it's already here."

Words failed Harry, stunned and rattled as he was, but, almost sensing it, Dumbledore took that moment to step in.

"What do you mean 'it is here', Ronan?"

As the centaur's expression turned even more grim, it was Firenze that answered.

"War is already raging, Albus. In fact," he said quietly, "it has been for centuries."


End file.
